


The Dance of Flame and Shadow

by morganoconner



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-05-31
Updated: 2012-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-18 06:06:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 32,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganoconner/pseuds/morganoconner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two angels fall, one hunter is given a powerful gift and a second chance at life, and the other is left trying to hold them all together. And with an Apocalypse on their doorstep and a clock ticking down to the end of the world, none of them are left with much time to try and cope. With either their new lives or the feelings and emotions creeping up on them that they’d all prefer to ignore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters 1-13 were written solely by morganoconner. Chapters 14 & 15 were written by gedry and edited by morganoconner. Unfortunately, this fic is on permanent hiatus and will likely not be completed. My sincerest apologies to those of you who were waiting.

  


Since he had begun his fall from grace, few things bothered Castiel more than the fact that he was slowly losing his ability to see Dean Winchester’s soul. But he found that simply being by Dean’s side almost constantly, as he was now, was a trade-off he could accept.

For now he was, if not _content_ , then at least _willing_ to ignore the lessening of his powers day by day, and use what ones remained to him for as long as possible to aid in the stopping of the Apocalypse. It was all he could do, all he’d _ever_ been able to do: helping his human charge whenever and wherever possible.

Which was why he was currently staring up at an abandoned warehouse, the latest in a long series of hunts involving demonic activity that the brothers had been trying desperately to put a stop to. This town had had a significant rise in unexplained disappearances, and all signs were pointing to _something_ leading the missing persons to this place.

It was with trepidation that they entered the warehouse, because Castiel could feel that something was off, something that didn’t add up to just a typical demonic presence. But he sensed the aura of hellfire, so he knew it must at least be demonic in _origin_.

“You see anything?” Dean asked, holding tightly to his gun. Ruby’s knife was hooked into his belt where he could reach for it easily. Sam had the Colt, but they’d agreed that they shouldn’t use it unless it was absolutely necessary, because they hadn’t had time yet to make more bullets for it, and it was still a couple weeks before they were supposed to go to Bobby’s and restock. They had been hoping that whatever was happening in this town, whatever was going on in _this building_ , would involve nothing more than a simple exorcism.

Castiel could already tell that wouldn’t be the case, and something tightened within him. “No, but something is definitely here,” he answered, stretching his senses as far as he could.

Something moved on the other side of the room. Two pinpricks of light moved with it, and suddenly Castiel could tell that those were its eyes, glowing and crimson and _evil_. He stopped, and the hunters stopped with him as the creature came forward, its hackles rising as it snarled.

Even with only the dim moonlight streaming into the warehouse, it was easy to see the thing was massive, easily the size of a pony, but shaped more like some sort of hound. Its claws were curved and wicked-looking, sharper than any blade, and its black fur seemed to suck all the light out and away from it. A tail that split off into two points swished behind it as it growled at them, its ears pricking forward when Castiel shifted uneasily.

“What the _fuck_ is that?” Dean breathed, thumbing the safety off on his gun.

“Nothing good,” was Castiel’s reply, spoken in a low voice as he took stock of the rest of their surroundings. The evidence of death was visible throughout the room, while the smell of it hung heavy in the air. There was blood, some older and some much more fresh, smeared on the walls and the floor.

Sam was moving slowly to circle the room one way, and Dean followed his lead, heading in the opposite direction. Castiel took a few more steps forward, his hand outstretched as he faced down the creature, though what he thought he could accomplish was beyond him. The most he hoped to do was distract it while the hunters found a way to destroy it.

It happened in a blink. The creature, which had been standing stock-still up to that point, suddenly lowered its head and headed straight for Castiel, all gnashing teeth and gleaming claws and a darkness surrounding it that was impenetrable even to his remaining angelic senses. He _knew_ suddenly, without doubt, that this was something Lucifer created using all the worst parts of Hell. There was no time to defend against it, no time to call on his grace and hope he had enough power left to destroy it. He was frozen, braced, waiting for what would inevitably be his end as the thing’s eyes stared into the most hidden parts of him.

What he had failed to notice, caught up as he was in those crimson eyes staring death at him, unable to look away or move or even think, was how close Dean had still been when the creature attacked. He heard the hunter shout something to Sam, heard three rapid gunshots. Then he was turning, the movement like slogging through a pit of tar, and he _saw_ the creature slam into Dean, watched as it began to methodically tear him apart faster than Castiel could even twitch a frozen limb.

Dean was screaming and Sam was yelling something to him. Castiel tried to call upon his grace, but there was nothing, _nothing_ , and Dean was dying before his eyes, worse than that, because this wasn’t just a hellhound, this was something much darker, and what bits of Dean’s soul he _could_ still see were being shredded as quickly and thoroughly as his body and _Castiel couldn’t do anything_. He was frozen, and it wasn’t just fear keeping him there, but some darker power that the creature itself trapped him with as he foolishly looked into its eyes.

There was another gunshot, and this time the creature was hurt. It whirled, black liquid dripping from the bullet hole in its side, and Castiel, in a sort-of daze, looked to where Sam stood holding the Colt. The creature took an unsteady lunge toward the hunter, and Sam put two more bullets into it, one through the chest and one through its head. The thing went down without so much as a whimper, crashing to the ground only two feet away from Sam.

All of a sudden Castiel could move again, his thoughts no longer disjointed and confused, and he was kneeling by Dean’s side before he registered moving to do so. He didn’t know where to put his hands – blood was _everywhere_ , so much blood – and Dean wasn’t moving, but Castiel could tell he was still alive, still hanging on by a thread even as his body and his soul lay in tatters. Darkness hung around him, and it was only a matter of time before death would take him, claim him, and Castiel didn’t know how to stop that from happening. For all of Dean’s encounters with death in the past, this time, there would be no coming back if the angel couldn’t save him now.

Sam crouched down on Dean’s other side, his eyes wide as he stared across at Castiel. “Cas, what do we do?”

“I don’t…I don’t know,” he muttered, closing his eyes and reaching for the battered remains of his grace. His hands were spread just above Dean, and he poured what small amount of energy he could spare into keeping him alive, keeping him _together_ , but it wasn’t enough, wouldn’t hold the hunter here for long at all. There was nothing he could do, nothing at all, and he’d never been this scared or felt this hopeless in the entirety of his existence.

“He can’t die, right?” Sam asked… begged. “The angels…”

“Whatever that creature was, it has damaged his _soul_. A simple healing won’t be enough. Even if I _had_ the ability to heal his body, it wouldn’t be enough. No angel can simply heal a soul like this. Nothing I’ve ever _heard_ of can repair this. If he dies…if I let him go right now, there will be no bringing him back. He will simply cease to exist.” And it hurt, it hurt so much to even say the words, to contemplate a reality where Dean Winchester did not exist in any form, and he bit back the scream that wanted to erupt as he explained the situation to Sam, focused his whole mind on keeping Dean together until he could _think_.

He heard the hitch in Sam’s breathing. “Cas, he can’t –” There was a rustle of clothing as Sam stood, his quick footsteps as he paced. “There has to be something. _Anything_.”

The answer came to Castiel in a moment of breathless awareness, but hopelessness crashed over him at the same time because even if he _could_ , even if he had enough to give, it was outside of what was within his power to accomplish. Even as a member of the Host, even before he was cut off, what he was thinking would take the power of an archangel. “He needs grace,” he said, his voice thick with desperation and despair. “Grace is the only thing powerful enough to heal what’s been done.”

Sam stopped pacing abruptly and took in a sharp breath. “You don’t have enough to give him.”

“No,” Castiel admitted. “There’s nothing I can do, Sam.” He was grasping at Dean’s soul, holding it as tightly as he could without damaging it further, but it was a losing battle and he knew it.

Sam was silent for a long moment, but before Castiel could think of anything he could possibly say, before he could even contemplate moving past his own grief and hopelessness, the desperate hunter slammed the door open and stalked outside. Castiel’s eyes opened and he stared in stunned disbelief as Sam spread his arms wide and hollered up to the sky.

“ _Gabriel! Gabriel, **please**! If you care about this world at all, **help us**!_ ”

And though it shouldn’t have worked, though the sigils carved on his ribs should have prevented any angel from finding them even if they wanted to, even if they were called upon, Castiel watched, astonished, as reality bent for a brief moment and then Gabriel appeared before Sam. His eyes were lit with grace and power, and he appeared every inch the archangel who walked away from Heaven, and who Castiel had been sure couldn’t possibly exist anymore.

“What do you want?”

-


	2. Chapter 2

He’d been looking for them for weeks. It was pretty typical that when he _didn’t_ want to see them, they had a nasty habit of popping up in whatever town he was having fun in, but the second he actually wanted to talk to them, they vanished completely off the radar. And no matter how much of a virtue _patience_ was, he definitely didn’t possess it after so long playing a pagan god.

Still, despite Gabriel’s lack of patience, and the irritation with his inability to find them, and the way he sort of wanted to strangle Castiel for doing too good a job hiding them… When Sam’s voice popped into his head, the call itself surprised him enough that he visibly jolted. But what _really_ shook him was the tug he felt on his grace in that same moment. That a Winchester was calling for him by name at all would have been worrying in its own right, because they didn’t trust him one bit, and they liked him even less. With good reason, of course. But even with the call, he knew he shouldn’t have been able to find them. That gentle pull on his grace should have been cancelled out entirely by the sigils carved into their ribs, and he couldn’t understand why now, suddenly, in this moment, he was being led right to them.

Still, he wasn’t dumb enough to look a gift horse in the mouth. He’d been looking for them for too long, and while the tug on his grace was familiar only in the vaguest sense – more like a distant memory than anything – he still managed to latch onto it, spread his wings, and go to where the youngest Winchester was waiting.

It was a warehouse of some type, was the first thing Gabriel noticed. It wasn’t unlike the place he’d lured the Winchesters to the last time he’d seen them. The second thing he was aware of was the stench of blood, both old and freshly spilled, and if he’d been human, he might have gagged.

He was standing directly across from Sam Winchester, who was gaping at him in open astonishment. Which, of course, made sense. He hadn’t expected Gabriel to actually come, and why should he? Gabriel had never done anything to endear himself to them…had, in fact, done quite the opposite, multiple times. The bitterness with which he asked, “What do you want?” was aimed more at himself than anything, but he was still almost gratified to see Sam’s eyes harden at the tone.

The hunter never had a chance to respond though, because Castiel’s voice carried from inside the building, and there was a frantic quality to it that Gabriel, even when he was at his very worst, couldn’t have ignored. “Gabriel, please…”

He spun away and was through the door before Sam had time to open his mouth. “Castiel, what -” he started, swiftly kneeling on the other side of the very broken man Castiel was trying so desperately to save.

“It was one of Lucifer’s hellbeasts,” Castiel said, his voice as rough as sandpaper.

Gabriel was aware that Sam had followed him inside and was standing by the wall, out of the way though he clearly wanted – _needed_ – to help. With a wave of his hand, he closed the entrance off, and both Sam and Castiel jumped as the door clanged shut. Then he reached down into himself and sought his grace. Power surged out of him and filled the room, stilled it.

In front of Sam, a lazy dust-mote was frozen in mid-air. On his wrist, his watch had stopped. “What did you do?” he asked, rougher than he probably intended because he was terrified for his brother.

“I froze time in this room,” the archangel replied. “Everything but the three of us anyway. Castiel couldn’t hold Dean together for much longer, so I’m giving us a small amount of time to work with. It won’t last long.”

“Does that mean you can help him?” Sam asked, his eyes both hopeful and distrustful. Gabriel saw Castiel’s come up as well, his heart shining in that shattered blue gaze.

“I don’t know,” Gabriel answered, honestly. “His soul is… Well, it’s basically in shreds. I’ve never…” He stopped speaking to concentrate on reaching out with his grace, trying to mend soul and skin, but he was blocked by a very small glow embedded in Dean’s essence, so small he’d never noticed it before, and he cursed.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Sam asked, unable to stop himself from coming closer.

Gabriel’s eyes snapped to Castiel’s. “You gave him part of your grace?”

Castiel swallowed. “I did. When I brought him out of Hell. He was…shattered. It was all I could do for him, to bring him some small measure of peace.”

“Terrific,” the archangel growled. “Well then, you’re screwed, baby brother. Your grace marks him as _yours_. I can’t heal him. Only you can, except you’re too weak now. And even if you could, the energy required to mend his soul – _if_ it’s even possible, which I can’t guarantee – would _take_ your entire grace. He would need it all, Castiel. _I_ can’t help him.”

Castiel’s eyes closed and he trembled out a breath. “Gabriel… Please, there must be _something_ ,” he begged.

Gabriel turned away, his jaw clenched. His eyes found Sam’s, and the hunter looked broken. He looked like at any moment he was going to go and make a deal with the devil to save his brother, and…

Oh, _hell_ no.

Gabriel cursed again, loudly and violently and in three different languages, and ignored the startled gazes of the other two while he wracked his brain to come up with a solution, _any_ solution. Because, of course, _obviously_ , this had been a trap from the offset. But not for Dean. That was just a bonus. This trap had been for Sam. Little Sammy, who would do anything for his big brother. Dean might have learned the art of saying no even for the sake of someone you loved, but Sam…Sam was more of a wild card.

“Gabriel –” Sam started.

“Shut up a minute!” he yelled, effectively shocking the hunter back into silence.

Grace. Dean needed grace, more specifically needed _Castiel’s_ grace, and Castiel’s healing mojo. But with almost nothing left to give…

But there was a way, and Gabriel remembered the proper sigils…

The sacrifice on Castiel’s part would be a big one, but it was temporary, or it should be. It would only have to be long enough to heal Dean, and then he could reverse it, give his brother his grace back and, theoretically, no one would be any worse off. But the power it would take would alert every angel within a thousand mile radius, and Lucifer had to be close if he was waiting for this trap to be sprung. Not close enough to be sensed, but close enough to be able to hear a call and come quickly, because he wouldn’t have counted on Sam calling for Gabriel. He had no idea Gabriel was even _here_ , even still alive.

That wasn’t going to last, clearly, but there was nothing for it. He sighed, reached up a hand. “Sam, I need a knife.”

Sam blinked slowly, and then scrambled for one of the many he was carrying. He produced a silver double-edged dagger, and Gabriel nodded.

“This’ll work.” He turned to Castiel, trusting that he would immediately know what Gabriel was planning when he said, “I need your hand.”

The angel looked frightened, but resolved. Still, he said, “Gabriel, they’ll all know. If you help me, they’ll hunt you as swiftly and surely as they do me. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I need. Your hand. Now.” Gabriel’s voice was hard, emotionless, because he _wasn’t_ sure, couldn’t be sure of a decision that would undo thousands of years of hard work to stay hidden. But this was the end of the world, and this was why he’d been looking for them to begin with. This was his way to help stop it. So he was going to trust in that, and hope to hell he wasn’t misplacing his faith here with the Winchesters.

Either way, his choice had been made.

Castiel reached out, laid his right hand palm-up in Gabriel’s left. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply as the archangel began to carve the necessary sigils. When Gabriel was done with those marks, he sliced a cut into his own palm and pressed it to the open wound on Castiel’s hand. Under his breath he murmured words in Enochian, and he felt his grace reach out and join with his brother’s.

“Close your eyes, Sam!”

Gabriel was glad that Castiel had the presence of mind to warn Sam, because he was already lost in the flow of grace, his own frayed link to the Host being used to charge Castiel back to full power. The angel beside him gasped sharply as his head was thrown back, light pouring into him and around him, covering him and being slowly absorbed into his being. The song of the Host filled the air, and Gabriel used his grace to weave a protection around Sam to keep him safe from it.

“Gabriel! Gabriel, that’s enough!” Castiel cried finally, in his true voice because for a moment, he could no longer control it. Gabriel realized it had been too long since he’d truly had to.

The archangel pulled away, steadied himself by pulling in a few deep breaths. Castiel was trembling as he tried to rein his true being back in, but it wouldn’t matter in a few moments anyway, and Gabriel had to work fast now. The Host was already whispering in quiet shock, wondering if what they felt could be true.

 _Brother. Brother, you’re home._

 _Not quite, morons_ , he thought viciously.

He watched Castiel turn back to Dean and place steady hands over him. Nothing could both strengthen and tear down Castiel like Dean could, even unconscious and mostly dead. With a thought, Gabriel allowed time to resume so Castiel could work.

Even at full power, it wasn’t an easy task for him, and he had the added effort of keeping Dean’s soul tethered while he healed his body enough to keep him going until they could transfer the grace. But he worked quickly, with a focused determination that Gabriel approved and commended.

“We need to do this now, Castiel,” he said after a few moments, listening to his brothers and sisters get louder, more curious.

“I’m ready,” Castiel murmured.

Gabriel moved back to his side, grabbed his hand. With a finger-snap, the tattered remains of Dean’s shirt vanished, and on his bare chest, the archangel used Castiel’s blood to draw the sigil he needed, a complicated design that would make a mortal eye dizzy and sick just to look at. Glancing over, he saw Castiel straining with the effort of keeping Dean’s soul where it was. “You sure you’re ready?” he asked.

Castiel gritted his teeth. “Do it.”

Gabriel turned his brother’s hand palm down, pressed it to the design on Dean’s chest. The reaction was instantaneous. The sound Castiel made caused the windows to shatter and the ground to quake. It wasn’t simply a scream…it was life and death, love and hate, agony and ecstasy, all rolled into a sound that could not be perceived on the mortal plane. Gabriel strengthened the web of grace around Sam, and then even he had to cover his eyes against the brilliance that spilled forth from Castiel into Dean Winchester.

It was all over in seconds.

When Gabriel opened his eyes, he saw Castiel slumped over Dean, his breathing ragged as his body struggled to adjust to…everything. Gabriel placed a hand on his shoulder. “Castiel.”

The angel –

 _Not an angel anymore. Human. Mortal, but just for now._

– blinked bleary eyes open. “Gabriel?”

“I need to get you out of here, and then I need to go,” Gabriel said. If he hadn’t already had the Host’s attention, he certainly did now. And now, he could feel someone else coming as well. A brother he _truly_ did not wish to see. “I’ll get back to you when I can, as soon as it’s safer. Give Dean a little time to heal up, but he should be fine soon. _Be careful._ ”

He dropped the protections on Sam, and the hunter stumbled forward, dazed. He opened his mouth to speak, but Gabriel didn’t give him a chance. He snapped his fingers, and they were gone, halfway across the country in an unknown, unremarkable motel room, and Gabriel even remembered to send their car along as well before he quickly took off in the opposite direction.

-


	3. Chapter 3

He had expected to feel empty. He had expected an aching feeling of loss where his grace was supposed to be, and had promised himself he would endure it as best as he could while Dean needed it.

But curiously, there was no empty feeling. In fact, quite the opposite, he felt _full_ – too heavy, too aware of everything inside this skin. His heart, which had never needed to beat before, pumped rhythmically, furiously. His lungs expanded and contracted with deep gulps of air he’d never had cause to take. Muscles ached, joints cracked and popped, blood rushed through imperfect ears, and he took all of it in with a vague sense of disjointedness, but not with the painful sense of something missing that he had been waiting for.

He wondered if it was because he’d been falling for so long now, or if the sacrifice being made for Dean made it simply hurt less. Or, if not that, then at least made the pain more bearable.

The door to the motel room clicked open and Sam came in carrying a few boxes of food from the diner next door. His eyes fell to Dean, still unconscious on one of the beds, so still that if not for the steady rise and fall of his chest, both Sam and Castiel would have thought him dead. Castiel cursed the limitedness of human vision, wished fervently that of all his powers, he’d been able to keep the one that allowed him to see the ebbs and flows of Dean’s soul.

Sam looked at Castiel as he set the food down. The angel was sitting next to Dean, where he had been staring down at him for the past half hour while he’d contemplated his newfound mortality.

“You all right, Cas?” Sam asked.

“I’m not sure I can adequately answer that at the moment,” he replied honestly. “Everything is very different, and I don’t think I’ve really had time to try to understand it all yet.”

Sam nodded, seeming unsurprised by the answer. “Any change?” he asked, nodding toward his brother, his gaze worried.

“None that I have been able to perceive.” Castiel’s voice was quiet. “But then, I can no longer see things the way I once could. However, I trust in Gabriel enough to have told us if he were still in danger.”

Brow furrowed, Sam set the food down on his own bed and sat. “See, that’s something I don’t get. Why did Gabriel help us? I mean, I know I called him and everything, but I never really expected –”

“He has been looking for you and Dean for some time.”

Sam froze. “He has? Why? And how do you know? And for that matter, how did he even find us _now?_ ”

“At the time, I never went looking for him for an explanation as to _why_. When I first began detecting his grace seeking you out, I was more concerned with making sure you and your brother remained shielded from him, on the chance he found a way past the sigils on your ribs. Now, I would be willing to hazard a guess that he perhaps wants to join you. I can’t imagine him helping Dean so readily for any other reason, as unlikely as it seems.” Castiel paused. “I don’t know how he found us now, and while it concerns me…I cannot help but be grateful.” His eyes slid back to Dean, and he almost missed the thoughtful expression that crossed Sam’s face in that moment. He wondered briefly what it meant, Sam looking at him like that, and then decided he would dwell on it later.

“If Gabriel decides to join us – and that _really_ seems unlikely, but you’re right, it’s the only thing that makes sense right now – we may actually have a chance at winning this thing,” Sam said, voice pitched low as though just speaking the words aloud would jinx them.

Castiel nodded. “It would be an amazing advantage, having an archangel on our side, even one as removed as Gabriel.” Next to him, Dean shifted almost imperceptibly, and any reply Sam made was lost as Castiel’s full attention went to the hunter by his side. “Dean?” His hand went to Dean’s shoulder, but he kept the touch light, not wanting to jolt him away by shaking him.

Dean made a low whimpering sound in his throat and Castiel pressed a little harder, and that was all it took. With eyes that suddenly flared wide, Dean shot up in the bed, gasping brokenly as his back and neck arched and he cried out. A brilliant flare of light was expanding around his eyes and mouth, and Castiel turned briefly to Sam to bark, “Cover your eyes!”

He never checked to see if the younger Winchester obeyed him or not, too concerned at that point with getting through to his charge. Because grace or no grace, Dean Winchester was still _his charge_.

The cries issuing forth from Dean now were no longer human, they were too pure, too musical for that, and Castiel had only a moment to be grateful that Dean’s angelic form apparently could not hurt him before he was straddling the hunter’s legs, grasping Dean’s upper arms tightly. “Dean. Dean! _Look_ at me! You must calm down, you _must_. _Dean!_ ”

He didn’t know what would happen if the power of the grace became too much for Dean’s body to handle, but Anna hadn’t dealt well when she’d first taken in her grace after so many years, and Dean would not be able to have a replacement body created quite so easily. If he couldn’t control it now, they could lose him anyway, or he’d be forced to take a vessel.

And he’d never do it. Not for anything.

“Dean, please,” Castiel whispered. Beneath his fingers, limbs that had been tensed and trembling slowly began to relax, and the cries became more human, lowering to desperate moans that eventually coalesced into words.

“Cas… Cas, what’s… _ahh_ , what’s happening to me?” Dean asked. “Everything…fucking _burns_.” His eyes had dimmed almost all the way back to their usual green color, just a pinprick of gold light at their cores, and when they met Castiel’s they were shining with fear.

“Shh, I know Dean, I know it’s a lot to acclimate to, but you must. You’ll do much further harm if you can’t stay calm, do you understand?”

Dean pulled in a few breaths, visibly trying to allow his body to adjust to the strange sensations coursing through him. “What’d that thing _do_ to me?” he finally asked when he could breathe more easily again.

Castiel allowed his hands to relax their grip slightly. “It tore you apart,” he said, shuddering as he recalled in it vivid detail. He hadn’t known humans were capable of such bright, clear memories, not like this. For a single moment, he wished deeply that they weren’t. “It would have killed you – almost _did_ kill you – if not for Gabriel’s assistance. Your soul was shredded.”

Dean’s eyes were wide as he took that in. He looked around the room, and his gaze lighted on Sam. When Castiel turned to the other hunter in the room, Sam was giving off such an aura of relief that for a moment, he felt as though he _could_ still see Sam’s soul. Dean’s eyes found Castiel’s again. “So… Gabriel fixed me? How did you convince him?”

“Gabriel helped, but he was not able to heal you himself,” Castiel explained. Dean seemed calm enough now, if confused and still frightened, and he decided it was safe enough to move away. He slid off Dean’s legs and sat back in his original position at the edge of the mattress, his hands in his lap as he continued to regard the hunter. “Dean, there was only one way to heal your soul. The damage…”

Something was happening to Dean as Castiel spoke. His eyes were going very wide, and he kept staring at Castiel like he could see beyond the flesh and blood, into something much deeper. Castiel wondered if he’d moved away too quickly. “Cas, you’re glowing,” Dean said, sounding breathless. “Cas, why the fuck are you _glowing?_ ”

“You’re seeing my…” Halfway through the sentence, it struck Castiel that he had a _soul_ , a real human soul not bound by grace and God and destiny, and when had that happened? When had he become so separated from his grace that he had a human soul able to function without it? “You’re seeing my soul,” he murmured, trying and failing to figure out the answers to all these questions he kept having.

Dean’s breathing sped up, just enough for Castiel to notice, and now Sam, who had been staying silent, came over and sat down on his other side, a hand on his arm, grounding him. “Dean, keep it together. I know you’re freaked, dude.”

“Sammy, what the fuck is going on?”

“In order to repair the damage done to you, Gabriel charged my grace. And then he transferred it to you.” Castiel spoke calmly, without inflection, though he had no idea how to feel about it, even now.

“So, what, you just decided to angel-fy me?” Dean yelled. Sam’s hand gripped tighter on his arm, but he didn’t even seem aware of it.

“We had no choice,” Castiel said tightly. “You would not have simply died, Dean, you would have been _gone_. There would have been nothing left of you, and I was not willing to let that come to pass!” He didn’t even realize his hands had clenched into fists until he felt the pain of the cuts his fingernails had dug into his palms. He gritted his teeth, awash in so much emotion that he didn’t know how to control, didn’t know how to turn off the way he’d always been able to in the past.

“Hey, hey, both of you guys need to calm down,” Sam said, right as Dean opened his mouth to reply. “Dean, you don’t have enough control of yourself, and if you don’t calm down, you’re going to do damage to your body. You really want that?” Dean shook his head very slowly, and Sam turned to Castiel. “And I know you’re not used to any of this human stuff, but you need to stay focused. The more out of control you get, the more you’ll set Dean’s emotions off. We only need to keep it together till Gabriel gets back, right?”

Slowly, Castiel nodded, taking a deep breath. His eyes found Dean’s again, and somehow, as their gazes locked, he felt a new sense of something like peace wash over him.

Dean was alive. Whatever else happened now, Dean was alive, and that was all that mattered. They would get through the rest.

-


	4. Chapter 4

He wasn't fast enough.

He should have been. In terms of speed, there was no angel who could match him throughout Heaven. He had been the Messenger, he _had_ to be fast. Except that now he was weakened, his grace battered from too much use after going so long without. He tore through the fabric of both space and time, but in the end, Gabriel just wasn't fast enough.

Agony lanced through him as Lucifer caught him and grabbed for his wings. He yanked hard, and Gabriel cried out and dropped to the earth like a stone. He was weakened enough that there was a crunch of bone as the arm he landed on shattered, and he swore colorfully as spots danced in his vision.

By the time he got his bearings again, it was too late to do anything but stand clumsily and take a single step forward before a wall of flame rose around him. His eyes closed in something he refused to admit was defeat, and when he finally managed to open them again, Lucifer stood before him, one corner of his mouth turned up in an almost-smile.

"Well, well, what have we here?" he said, tapping his chin as he gazed thoughtfully at Gabriel. "I'd heard rumors that you'd died, brother, yet here you stand, reeking of Pagan magic and a world full of sin."

"That's rich, coming from you," Gabriel muttered.

"Oh Gabriel, it pleases me to know that even after so long, your wit remains intact," Lucifer said, his stance relaxed and his tone mellow. "Blasphemous as it is, you could have chosen no better disguise than a Trickster god."

Gabriel snorted. "It doesn't seem a little hypocritical to you, flinging around words like _blasphemy_ at others?"

To look at him, you'd never know the anger Lucifer was feeling. There was no storm in his eyes, no wrath on his face. But his grace flared, and Gabriel knew he'd scored a hit. For all the good it _wouldn't_ do him. “Oh Gabriel, I was going to offer you a chance to join with me, _fight_ with me, but I can see it’s not an offer that would be appreciated.”

Gabriel’s eyes darkened. “No. I won’t help you destroy our brothers and sisters. I wouldn’t take sides then, what makes you think I will now?”

"Yet you’re willing to help the Winchesters and their pet renegade?" the devil asked, obviously done dancing around the issue. “And you call _me_ hypocritical. That sounds dangerously like choosing a side.” His voice was still pleasant enough to make Gabriel want to hit things. “Where are they, Gabriel?”

Instead of resorting to useless violence, the archangel simply shrugged, spreading his arms wide. "Beats the heck outta me," he said, giving a mockery of an apologetic smile. "Those crazy kids never stick around long enough to let me have any fun, why would today be any different?"

"I know you must know," Lucifer said, and now there was something dangerous in his soft voice. Something venomous. "Tell me where they are now, and I'll let you go back to the existence you've carved for yourself. Fail to do so, and I promise, brother, I will make you regret it."

Gabriel's face went stoic, and he wrapped his grace tightly around himself, bracing for whatever was coming. "Bring it," he said.

Lucifer obliged.

~*~

It could have been hours or days. Time lost all meaning to him after Lucifer smothered his grace. He couldn't heal, couldn't fly, couldn't protect himself in any way, and his brother used everything he knew to try and get the information he wanted from Gabriel. If the torture wasn't of his grace or his mind, Lucifer employed the help of one of the demons at his disposal to torture his body.

Gabriel held firm, though he'd wonder forever afterward how he'd done so. He cracked jokes while his body shattered and bled, laughed outright in Lucifer's face while he broke Gabriel in ways even the Trickster could never have imagined, and never once did he give a single thing away about the little band of renegades he'd taken under his protection.

The devil was not pleased.

"I grow quite tired of these games, Gabriel," Lucifer said, kneeling down next to the ring of fire, tilting his head to look at Gabriel through the flames.

Gabriel gave a broken cough from where he lay, curled on his side, body wracked with pain. "That's just because you're not playing them right," he rasped, slitting his eyes open and managing a smirk for his brother.

Lucifer shook his head, looking weary and resigned. "I've devoted as much time as I can to this, brother. You have one final chance to tell me where the Winchesters are, or you'll leave me with no choice."

"What, you gonna kill me?" Gabriel asked. "Not much of a threat, what with Armageddon on the horizon and all. Probably doing me a favor."

Lucifer actually appeared shocked. "Such needless violence against my family? Gabriel, you wound me."

The bark of laughter he gave had Gabriel gasping, closing his eyes as agony radiated out from his cracked ribs. It took him a moment to catch his breath long enough to ask, "So what do you plan on doing to me? Might as well get it over with."

The devil heaved a great sigh, shaking his head sadly. "Such a waste," he said. "But then, you were never one for making the intelligent decisions." Something flashed in the firelight, and Gabriel forced his eyes to focus until he could make out the knife clutched in Lucifer's hand. Perplexed, he watched his brother slice a deep cut into his arm, watched him use the blood to draw sigils Gabriel had never seen before around the circle. He watched an aura of crimson light begin to swell from the markings, watched them grow brighter and brighter as Lucifer chanted over them. He felt it when the light washed over him, felt the heat pierce him, felt it begin to tear him apart from the inside.

Then all he could do was scream.

~*~

He came awake with a gasp, shivering, his clothes damp and cold against his skin. It took him some time to realize that it was because he was outside, and it was raining. He blinked, tried to focus and failed. He was surrounded by green... A forest, then, and that was good. He could work with that. He wondered if it was deliberate on Lucifer's part, or if his little brother had just been in a rush.

It really didn't matter.

With monumental effort, he pushed himself into a sitting position, gritting his teeth against the accompanying pain and dizziness. _Not time to freak out, not yet._ Never mind that he could feel his heart beating furiously, feel his muscles straining from the effort of moving. Never mind that there was a great gaping hole where his grace should have been, or that he was more confined to this body now than he'd ever been in hundreds of years of hiding. _Get to Castiel. Get to the Winchesters, that's all that matters._

There was a jagged rock near to hand, and he grasped it tightly, pressed it deep into his palm. Sharp pain flared, but it was nothing to the agony in the rest of his battered body, and easy to ignore.

The symbol he cut was an uncomplicated pattern of connecting lines. When it was done, he whispered the words of summoning and pressed his bleeding hand flat against the earth.

She appeared as a mirage would, rippling and indistinct at first, and then slowly coalescing into the shape of a woman with viridian eyes and a mane of wild dark hair. Her skin glittered in the rain as she danced toward him, her dress of leaves rustling with every movement. When she was close enough to him to see his face, she paused, recognition flaring, and then laughed. The sound was like the chime of bells, and more than one mortal had been caught in the spell of it over the course of hundreds of years. Gabriel wasn't so easily lured, mortal or otherwise.

"S'good to see you again, Danu." His voice was only a little slurred, but his eyes were losing focus again as exhaustion and pain did their best to overwhelm him.

"How delightful!" She cried, clapping her hands. "It has been too long, Trickster." She tilted her head, eyes sparkling as she studied him. "Though Trickster you are no longer, I see. What shall I call you, with one name but a lie?"

"You don't need to call me anything," he said, as firmly as he could manage. "Safer for us both, I think." He closed his eyes briefly, shuddering out a breath. "Need your help, Danu. Calling in my favors. Hope that's not a problem."

"For you, my friend, never," she assured, kneeling on the damp ground next to him. He was surprised to see genuine affection and honesty in her gaze. "The hurts on the outside I can heal," she murmured. "Though those in your soul will remain. My power is finite, and ebbs and flows with the seasons."

"It's enough," he said, and gasped when her cool hand went to his forehead and warmth flowed through him. Skin and bone knit together under her care, until the only pain he could feel crushing him was soul-deep and unreachable.

"That's all there is to give. Years remain till that power returns and I can help you more." Her skin seemed paler, no longer shimmering, and her eyes were sad in a way he'd never seen them before.

He nodded. "Thank you. Your kindness is...as welcome as it is unexpected."

She laughed again, and he found himself pleased that there was still music in it. "Ah, but I know you now," she said. "Know what you are, and know you to be my forest's only hope." She leaned close, her breath warm against his ear, and whispered, " _Angel._ "

He shuddered at the reminder. "Not so much now, my friend."

"It matters not what power you do or do not possess. An angel you are, whether your grace be within reach or not. We cannot change who we are, not in any way that matters. You will see."

He swallowed, turning away because he still had to get back, wasn't allowed to break until he was safe. Until he was sure _they_ were safe. "I need to get to my friends, Danu. Do you have a way to help me just a little more?"

Her smile was radiant as she stood. "Travel is easy, friend angel," she murmured. She pressed a hand to the closest tree, whispered to it softly. At the uppermost branches, there was a soft glow, and a leaf broke off, fluttering down into her waiting hand. She held it gently as she brought it to him. "Chew slowly, fix your destination firmly in your mind. Do not swallow until you are sure where you will end up." She grasped his hand. "The Old Ones cannot fight the war that creeps ever closer. But they shall stand with you when and where they can. Peace and luck travel with you, my Trickster friend."

She faded away before he ever had the chance to respond.

~*~

Traveling by magic was vastly different than flying, and the change left him feeling nauseous and weak which, combined with the intense fatigue, meant that he could barely stand when he appeared outside of the nondescript motel room. It took all of his willpower to walk the three staggering steps to the door, and even more to raise his leaden arm enough to give a single unsteady knock.

When the door opened, his vision was already darkening, his legs unable to support him as he fell forward. The last thing he was aware of was a set of strong, warm arms wrapping around him and Sam Winchester’s frantic voice in his ear.

-


	5. Chapter 5

Two weeks.

Two weeks since Gabriel had left them here, had left them and gone off to try and outfly Lucifer and any others of the Host who might have come looking for him.

Two weeks that Castiel had been mortal. Without power, without _grace_ , and it was almost unbearable, trying to function without something that had been so intrinsically a part of him. His grace had been failing, and he’d been losing more of himself every day, but there had always been enough that at least he hadn’t felt so cut off…so alone, and cold, and _blind_.

Even now, it was his altered way of seeing that bothered him the most. Every morning he looked out, expecting to see the flashes of color and aura that made up the world, his father’s beautiful creation. And every morning, the brightest colors he saw were the sunrise, and it wasn’t enough, was _never_ enough. He looked at Dean, and instead of the brilliant warmth and radiance that made up the hunter’s soul, he saw only the flesh on the outside.

The only time this was ever different was when he was able to steal a few moments to look into Dean’s eyes. Those emerald eyes held the deepest depths of what made up his soul, now bound together by grace, reflected in that constant pinprick glow of brilliance he could never fully block. In those eyes, Castiel found peace, found that he was able to breathe again past the panic, just for a few short moments.

For most of those two weeks, Sam was quiet, seated at the small table that held his laptop, though he spent more of his time gazing out the window, fear and worry and hope mingling in his eyes as he watched for their unlikely savior, than he did actually using his computer.

During the first of those two weeks, Dean lost control often, and violently. Castiel and Sam discovered early on that they were both immune to Dean’s angelic form, and it was a good thing, because oftentimes it was only together that they were able to bring Dean back to himself before he did real damage to his human body. The hunter would come back to himself slowly, trembling and moaning, praying to a God he didn’t believe cared, and yet now could feel to the depths of his very being, Light and Love and Glory and Power he didn’t understand, _couldn’t_ understand.

It tore Castiel apart, seeing that, but he never stopped being there for Dean, _helping_ his charge in the only ways he knew how, slowly piecing him back together when he otherwise would have remained shattered. And slowly, it got better. Dean began to lose control less often, even when his temper was frayed and his patience shot, even when he was so angry he was seething with it…he kept himself together. And slowly, so slowly, Castiel began to _teach_ him.

By the end of that second week, Dean knew how to alternate between his own limited human vision and the angelic perception that made him so uncomfortable. When Dean was seeing things the way Castiel _wished_ he himself still could, the fallen angel tried not to feel envy. And when he noticed that during these times, Dean tried his hardest not to look at his brother, Castiel talked him through it. And when Dean looked at _him_ , and those green eyes widened in awe every time, that pinprick glow flaring for a brief moment, Castiel allowed himself to feel warm.

Meanwhile, for all of those two weeks, he watched Sam watching for Gabriel, and he himself waited and wondered and worried.

~*~

When Gabriel did finally return, it wasn’t in any way any of them expected. There was no sound of wingbeats, no flashes of light or snapping of fingers or sarcastic remarks in a drawling voice. There was nothing but an unsteady knock at the door that had all three of them tensing, followed by Castiel’s brother toppling gracelessly –

\- Oh, dear Father, _gracelessly_ -

– into Sam’s arms.

Castiel was by the hunter’s side in an instant, helping him support Gabriel until they were able to maneuver him onto the other bed. From his own, Dean sat blinking, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly, his eyes wide. Sam began tending to Gabriel immediately, his hunter’s instincts and long years of training taking over as he checked the archangel over for any injuries. Castiel hesitantly retreated to Dean’s side, his emotions too jumbled to be able to be of any help.

“Cas…” Dean said, his voice frantic as his eyes – still so shocked and _fearful_ – turned to Castiel. “Cas, he’s not… He looks just like you, there’s no… I mean, he’s not…”

Bowing his head, Castiel closed his eyes and released a soft breath. “His grace is gone.”

Dean’s hand wrapped around his arm and gripped tightly, forcing the angel’s gaze back up to him. From where he was working over Gabriel, Sam’s gasp had been audible, and his gaze on them now was sharp, even as he continued running his hands over Gabriel’s torso. “What the hell does that _mean?_ ” Dean growled, and Castiel could feel heat from his grace burning into him. He didn’t pull away though, only shook his head, looking toward the floor again.

“I don’t know. Oh, Father, I don’t know.”

He didn’t realize he was shaking until Dean’s other hand came down on his shoulder, steadying him. “We can’t… Cas, I can’t _stay_ like this.”

Rage such as Castiel had never felt before exploded through him, and now he did jerk back, standing and glaring down at Dean. “You. _You_ cannot stay like this? You have been given _everything I am_ , Dean Winchester. You have been given my life, my _grace_. The eyes with which I see and ears with which I hear. You have been given the warmth of my _Father_ , the only remaining bit of home I had left, and now I have _nothing_. So do not – _do not_ – tell _me_ that you cannot bear to stay like this.”

He didn’t have time to register what Dean’s expression was when the pained whimper from the other bed reached his ears, and he flinched, unable to force himself to look toward his brother…his brother who was now as far fallen as he was, because of them. Unable to look at Sam, whose gaze he could all but _feel_ scorching into him, accusing him.

Unable to look at Dean, because…

Because.

Without another word, he turned and fled.

~*~

It wasn’t as though Castiel had a particular destination in mind. But he couldn’t stand it, being in that small room for a moment longer. Walking, just the simple act of _moving_ , coupled with the wind that tugged at his hair and trench coat, calmed him. And as he calmed, he began to feel the first stirrings of guilt.

Dean didn’t deserve his ire. The hunter, after all, wasn’t having any easier a time than Castiel was. It was a change for _both_ of them, and he knew that Dean would far prefer the simplicity of his human existence to what he had now, just as Castiel craved the warmth of his grace. Both of them had been handling this as best they could, living under the assumption that it would be reversed quickly. Now… Now neither of them would be able to get through it without the support of the other.

And no matter how he felt, no matter how difficult this was for him, Castiel knew he would not change the choice he had made, not ever, nor for anything.

His steps slowed further as he thought of Gabriel, and another wave of guilt washed over him. Of course the archangel was in capable hands with Sam. The younger Winchester would never let anything happen to him, would, indeed, do everything he could to make sure Gabriel was all right. But Castiel should never have left while his brother was hurting and vulnerable, and certainly not after everything he’d done for them.

He finally stopped walking altogether when he found himself by a children’s playground, and he sank onto the bench beside it, lowering his head into his hands as he leaned forward. _Father_ , he prayed, though a part of him couldn’t help but wonder if God had long since stopped hearing him. _I don’t know what to do. Please, help me._

A hand fell to his shoulder, and he startled, jerking upright.

“S’just me, Cas,” Dean said quietly, squeezing his shoulder. The hunter’s voice had him relaxing minutely, and he turned to look up into those warm jade eyes. Dean crooked a small smile at him and came around to sit beside him on the bench. They were silent for a long moment before Dean spoke again. “Sam kicked me out, said if we were gonna be idiots, we could _both_ be idiots somewhere else, because he had better things to be doing at the moment than playing mediator.” Guilt, something that was rapidly becoming a familiar feeling to Castiel, burned in those green depths.

“It’s good that there is one of us who can still keep his head in a crisis,” Castiel said softly. “I’m glad Sam is there to care for my brother. It should be me, but I don’t…”

“You wouldn’t really know how, huh?” Dean said, looking away. “We’re both pretty much trainwrecks right now.”

Castiel glanced at him, nodded slowly. “As you say. I have no idea how to function like this.”

“And I have no idea how to be a damn angel.” Dean’s lips twitched, but the half-smile looked bitter. “Guess we’re gonna have to figure it out.”

“It doesn’t appear that we have any choice in the matter.” Castiel’s gaze slid to the ground. “Gabriel didn’t deserve this. Whatever happened to him…he didn’t deserve this.”

Dean leaned back, tilting his head up to look at the sky. The bright sun flared in his eyes, grace reflecting out and sparking something inside Castiel when he glanced over. “None of us really did, did we? We’ll deal, I guess. S’what we do, right?”

Yes. It was what they did, dealing with things they shouldn’t be forced to deal with.

Castiel leaned back as well, and they sat together in silence as the sun began its slow descent toward the horizon.

-


	6. Chapter 6

It took three days for Gabriel to fight his way back from the grasping darkness of unconsciousness. He finally came awake, gasping and choking back a cry, to find Sam Winchester hovering over him. One large hand was pressed firmly to Gabriel’s chest, keeping him lying down, while the other wiped his forehead with a damp washcloth. Gabriel’s heart was pounding, his body drenched in sweat, and it took a long time – too long – for him to feel reasonably sure of his voice. “What happened?”

Sam’s eyes were dark with concern. “We were hoping you could tell us,” he murmured, pulling back slowly. Gabriel struggled to sit up, but every muscle protested loudly, and he fell back with a pained groan.

Memories slowly came back to him in snapshots. Lucifer and his demons, the weeks of torture… His grace being ripped from him after that last refusal to give up the Winchesters… Waking up in the forest, half dead, summoning Danu… The goddess healing him, _helping_ him…

There was nothing after that except for cold darkness, but clearly he’d made it to the Winchesters somehow. “Dean,” he remembered suddenly, his eyes flying back to Sam’s. “Your brother okay?”

“He’s okay,” Sam said, looking down, then taking a seat gingerly on the edge of the bed. “All things considered, both of them are doing okay. Coping, at any rate. Alive, which is what counts.” Sam’s hazel eyes hesitantly slid back to Gabriel’s. “Before, I just wanted you to come back so I could thank you for what you did. But now…”

Gabriel rolled his eyes, looking away briefly, trying not to feel the emptiness where his grace was supposed to be. It still felt raw and ragged, a gaping wound that made it hard to catch his breath. “Seriously, let’s not make this maudlin and depressing. It’s done, we’re all alive, and you two muttonheads are still…well, _you two muttonheads_ , miraculously. Keep it that way, we’ll call it even.”

Temper flashed across Sam’s face, but he reined it in before he could say anything. Gabriel found himself wishing he hadn’t… At least some good old-fashioned verbal sparring would take his mind off his newfound mortality, even if physically he didn’t feel like he was up to going two rounds with a fruit fly. He scowled when the hunter stood and walked over to the mini-fridge, removing a bottle of water. Sam uncapped it and took a long swallow before looking back at Gabriel. “Piece of advice?” he said.

Gabriel arched an eyebrow.

“Don’t piss Dean off when they get back.”

If Sam was hoping the warning would give the fallen archangel pause, he was going to be sorely disappointed. Gabriel’s smile turned positively _wicked_.

~*~

All told, he was stuck in the bed for nine days, too weak to move more than to walk unsteadily to the bathroom and to sit up to eat food, both of which he required help with more often than he liked to think about.

None of them ever talked about the night terrors he suffered, but every time Gabriel came out of one, silent and sweating and shaking, Sam was by his side, a hand on his shoulder, low voice murmuring softly until Gabriel was able to focus on him. Then the hunter would offer him a small, quick smile and go back to the nest of blankets he had on the floor, since the two newly-made humans had the beds while Dean had taken to resting fitfully on the couch. Gabriel’s gaze would stay on him for a long time, until inevitably they would both fall back to sleep.

During the days, he stuck a smirk on his face and threw on the familiar mantle of the Trickster, able to find solace under the mask even if his powers were gone. He snarked at his brother, mocked the Winchesters, and generally made a nuisance of himself, filling the room with sarcastic banter and laughter whenever the opportunity presented itself. He made it his personal mission to test Dean’s control, driving him to the brink until he had the new angel all but exploding with grace, before easing back and letting Castiel fret and soothe Dean and glare at him.

It was helping, and Dean’s control was better than it ever would have been, which was the whole point… not that he didn’t enjoy having a little fun at the same time. He thought maybe the only one who realized what he was _really_ up to was Sam, judging by the amused eyerolls and headshakes he got when he and Dean started in on each other.

His taunting and testing came to a head the first day Gabriel was able to stand on his own without feeling like his legs were made out of jelly, when Castiel tried to offer him the apology that Gabriel just _knew_ had been on his tongue since the archangel had come back. Sam was at his computer, tracking demonic signs and omens that were steadily on the rise on the east coast, and Dean was across the room cleaning his weapons for what had to be the thousandth time.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow when his brother came up to him, and Castiel looked down. When the fallen angel spoke, his voice was soft and uncertain. “You’re feeling better?” he asked.

Gabriel snorted. “In a manner of speaking. What’s up, bro?”

“I wanted to…apologize,” Castiel said, not meeting Gabriel’s gaze. “What happened to you…I can only imagine the pain, and you never would have been put in that position if not for… everything. I know we are in a war, and there will always be sacrifice in war. But this is one I would not have had you make had there been another way. I’m sorry, Gabriel.”

Gabriel’s jaw clenched as he listened to Castiel’s apology, and then his gaze went to Dean, who was still cleaning his weapons and very clearly trying to look like he wasn’t listening to every word being spoken. He turned back to Castiel, who was still looking down and so missed the gleam in his eye. “You’re damn right you should be sorry, it’s entirely your fault.” He sensed more than saw _both_ the Winchesters’ heads snap up at that. “I mean, really. If you’d just done your job from the beginning, none of us would be in this position. Your boys here’d be in their rightful positions, letting Lucifer and Michael do the tango or the samba or the friggin’ _waltz_ in their meatsuits. I’d be on some paradise island, sipping cocktails, having sex with a beautiful woman or three, and waiting around impatiently for the end. And you’d be Zachariah’s lapdog as usual. And instead, here we are. So yeah. All your fault, bro. Clearly, we’d be so much better off if it wasn’t for you.”

Dean was on his feet like a shot, fire in his eyes as he waved a hand. Gabriel flew back against the wall with a gasp, and Castiel’s eyes went wide as he looked back and forth between the hunter and his brother. Dean’s hand stayed outstretched, and his furious gaze didn’t waver from Gabriel.

The fallen archangel let out a somewhat pained bark of laughter. “Congratulations, Dean-o. You’ve finally got enough control to be able to actually focus that shiny new grace of yours.” The pressure tightened, and he moaned a little, his head thunking back against the wall. “You’re welcome,” he gasped out.

“This…all of what you said…was a test of Dean’s control?” Castiel asked, his voice even more gravelly than normal as he walked over to stand at the hunter’s side. His eyes were narrowed.

“Well it sure wasn’t – _ah, hell_ , that’s quite a grip you got there, Winchester – for kicks. Course, if your boy here knew the fine art of _sarcasm_ , it maybe wouldn’t have been an issue.” He tried to draw in a full breath, found that he couldn’t. “You mind easing up the pressure there a little, champ?” he asked tightly. If anything, the air squeezed tighter around him, and he looked over to where Sam was clacking away on his keyboard. Damned if the kid didn’t have the tiniest of smirks gracing his features. “Sammy, a little help here?” he wheezed.

Sam slanted a glance over and shrugged. “You got yourself into this, Gabriel, I’m willing to bet you can get yourself out.”

“Aww, don’t be like –” _that_ , he meant to say, but suddenly found he couldn’t breathe enough to talk, and he glared at Dean past the fluttering panic in his chest. He knew the hunter wouldn’t _actually_ kill him…or at least, he really hoped not, and despite Sam’s comment, he sincerely doubted he’d _really_ let Dean hurt Gabriel…but he wasn’t used to being in situations where he was all but helpless.

Dean’s expression was still fierce, his pupils glowing more brightly than usual with the grace inside him. “You wanted to piss me off, there are better ways to do it.”

Castiel laid a hand on Dean’s arm, his eyes searching Gabriel’s as he spoke to the hunter. “Dean, release him. He truly did not mean any harm, though his ways of… _helping_ may leave something to be desired.”

He refused – _refused_ – to feel guilty. Damn it. _Guilt_ was something he’d left behind when he became the Trickster, and somehow, _somehow_ , it was always _these people_ who managed to bring it out again.

 _Damn it._

The pressure eased, enough to allow him a full breath, though he was still pinned tightly to the wall. He smirked, a comment on the tip of his tongue, and Castiel’s sharp gaze stopped him. “Don’t,” the fallen angel said, tugging at Dean’s arm. Those blue eyes finally released Gabriel’s as Castiel turned to the hunter. “Let’s take a walk,” he said, and Dean, after a long, tense moment, released Gabriel fully with a grunt before turning and stalking out the door. Castiel sighed, glancing one last time at Gabriel, and then followed the man he still considered his charge.

The door clicked shut behind him, and somehow, it was worse than if Castiel would have slammed it.

Gabriel didn’t realize he’d slumped to the floor until Sam was suddenly kneeling down in front of him, looking concerned. “You okay?”

He shook his head, didn’t want to try and speak just yet, too overwhelmed with everything he’d been holding back since he’d woken up over a week ago. Guilt and pain and fear and gratitude and disbelief and defiance and respect and all of it – _all of it_ – was just too much, too mangled, and he’d seen what all those emotions had been doing to Castiel, but he’d thought he could hold them back, thought he could get through it better, and he couldn’t. He _couldn’t_.

He tilted his head back against the wall, felt tears slipping from his closed eyes, and he tried to will them away before remembering that he didn’t have the ability to, and that just made them fall faster.

Sam made a small sound and shifted, sliding in next to Gabriel and tugging the fallen archangel into him, and Gabriel let himself curl into the loose embrace because, somehow, inexplicably, being close to Sam was the only way he felt close to being who he truly was anymore. He didn’t understand it, didn’t get why the hunter could make him still feel like he was _the archangel Gabriel_ when he otherwise had never felt like he was less so. He didn’t understand…but he still needed it.

He needed _Sam_.

And hell if that didn’t scare the ever-loving crap out of him when he paused to think about it. But for now, he curled in closer and didn’t _allow_ himself to think as he tried to will away the pain.

-


	7. Chapter 7

“Anti-possession tattoos,” was the first thing Bobby said to them after they explained their story.

Castiel saw Sam and Dean blink at each other, then as one turn back to the gruff hunter. “Huh?” Dean asked. Leaning in the entryway between the living room and the kitchen, Gabriel rolled his eyes and smirked.

“ _Anti-possession tattoos_ ,” Bobby repeated. “And it’s the first thing you two idjits shoulda thought of, with what’s gunnin’ for you.” He gestured at Castiel and, grudgingly it looked like, Gabriel. “If they’re human, they can be possessed. You ain’t rookies, I shouldn’t have to be explainin’ this to you.”

Sam released a slow breath, leaning back in his chair and glancing again at his brother. “Shit,” he said.

Dean’s gaze was fixed on Castiel, his expression something between guilt and regret. Castiel offered what he hoped was a reassuring look back. It wasn’t as though the Winchesters were at fault… _none_ of them had thought of the possibility, and he and Gabriel _should_ have.

“Well, that should be fun,” Gabriel muttered, crossing his arms.

“ _You_ shut your damn mouth, did I say you could talk?” Bobby growled, glaring at the archangel. Since they’d met an hour ago, when Sam and Dean had shown up on his doorstep with the two newly-made humans in tow, it had been instant dislike on both sides. Castiel worried they might actually kill each other if given any sort of opportunity.

Gabriel rolled his eyes again, but stayed quiet. Castiel didn’t miss the grateful look Sam shot him, or the twitching of Gabriel’s lips in response.

He hadn’t missed any of those looks, the last several days.

“Lucky for you two, I still got the stuff from the last time,” Bobby muttered, rolling himself over to a cabinet at the far end of the room. He pulled out what Castiel realized must be a tattoo gun, and ink, and sterilization swabs. “Hopefully you ain’t gonna get squeamish over this,” the hunter said to the room at large, raising an eyebrow at them.

Dean caught Castiel’s eyes, and the fallen angel nodded. “Give it here, Bobby,” Dean said, standing. He nodded to Castiel to follow him, Castiel assumed down to the panic room.

“Good,” Bobby said. “While you’re doing that, _you two_ –” his sharp eyes moved first to Gabriel, then Sam, “– get to help me strengthen the wards.” He tossed another glare at Gabriel, who threw out a lazy salute.

“Sir, yes sir!”

Castiel quickly hid a smile and went after his charge, knowing that Gabriel and Sam were in capable hands, regardless of Bobby’s understandable – based on the story Dean had told him – antagonism toward the once-Trickster.

~*~

Dean’s hand was warm where it was pressed to Castiel’s chest as he leaned over the fallen angel on the cot. The needle bit into his flesh as Dean continued working it steadily over his skin, the hunter’s full concentration on the protection ward slowly taking shape over Castiel’s heart. Castiel barely even felt the pain, so intent was his gaze on Dean’s face, so aware of the heat radiating from his palm.

Dean had been concerned when they’d started this an hour ago, had warned Castiel that it would probably hurt. Gentle amusement had trickled through him at that… he was no stranger to pain, even the human version of it. Dean’s gaze though, when Castiel had softly told him that he trusted him, had gone warm and bright with gratitude, and Castiel was glad he had kept the amusement to himself.

Now… now Dean’s eyes were warm with something else, something that had been flickering between them for weeks, for _months_. Something that made Castiel’s breath catch and his heart flutter and his skin flush, and he wasn’t so naïve that he didn’t realize what those reactions meant. Even before his sudden tumble into mortality, he’d known he was falling in love with the hunter.

The needle jerked, and Dean pulled it away quickly, swallowing hard as his eyes flew to Castiel’s. “Cas…”

Castiel’s eyes closed for a brief moment. Dean hadn’t learned how to tap into thoughts intentionally yet, but Castiel had been all but broadcasting them, and with how focused the hunter had been on him… “Finish, Dean,” he said quietly, meeting that viridian, grace-filled gaze once more. When Dean would have argued, Castiel touched his arm. “Finish. There will be time to talk later.”

He watched Dean close his own eyes to steady himself, gather himself together the way he’d been trained since childhood. When he went back to his task, his hand didn’t waver, and there was no hesitation in the precise movements of the needle.

But what had been only a flicker between them was suddenly a bright, steady flame.

~*~

It was seconds or hours later, and they were still silent as Dean dabbed a washcloth damp with alcohol over the new tattoo. Castiel couldn’t help but hiss slightly at the sharp, unexpected sting, and Dean paused. “Wish I could just heal this for you,” he said with a sigh.

Castiel remained quiet for a moment. “You…could, if you truly wished to,” he finally said. Dean blinked. “You’re in possession of a fully charged grace, thanks to Gabriel, one no longer bound by Heaven’s laws, and you remain hidden by the sigils on your ribs and the wards you keep around you. You have the ability to heal, you just need to learn how.”

Dean looked stunned, like he truly hadn’t considered this as even a possibility, and Castiel conceded that he really had no reason to. Had Castiel _ever_ healed anyone besides himself in Dean’s presence? Even before his rebellion, he’d been bound by Heaven’s rules, and healing was a miracle he was rarely given leave to perform.

He sat up, wincing a little, and took Dean’s hands in his, ignoring the spark of awareness between them at the touch, even as Dean’s breath hitched almost imperceptibly. “You already know how to focus your grace,” he said. “How to use it to move things, or even destroy them.” He smiled a little, remembering that particular lesson with the glass bottles only days ago. Dean had supposedly pictured Gabriel’s face on every one, and had subsequently made each and every bottle explode with no trouble. “Healing is no different, only…gentler, and by touch.” He brought one of the hunter’s hands back to his bare chest, shivering a little, and not with cold. “Focus it, direct it, the same way you already know. Only change your intention, and the grace will do as it’s meant to.”

Dean released a slow breath and closed his eyes. They were both perfectly still for a long moment, and then Castiel gasped as a familiar warmth flooded him and the sharp ache over his heart vanished. Dean’s eyes opened, grace glowing in their depths as he pulled back abruptly. “Oh…” he said, the only thing he looked like he could manage.

Castiel’s smile was bittersweet, a desperate longing filling him at the memory of that warmth, that connection to _home_ , but he pushed it away quickly and focused on his pride in his charge, and his gratitude in knowing Dean cared enough _to_ heal him. “Not as difficult as you thought?”

Dean was staring down at his hand like it had become something foreign to him. In a way, Castiel supposed it must seem that way.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“What are the limits?” Dean asked, looking up suddenly with a sharp gaze.

Tilting his head, Castiel regarded him. “The greater the injury, the more grace it takes, and you may need some time to recover. But Dean… I brought you back from the dead, healed a body that was torn to shreds and decomposing. The power is not limitless, not by any means, and using it too often will surely bring the Host to your doorstep. But in terms of regular, human injuries?” He let his voice trailing off speak for itself.

“Jesus,” Dean said. His eyes went to the door. Suddenly, Castiel understood.

He touched Dean’s arm again, bringing the hunter’s gaze back to him. “I don’t believe it would tax you overmuch to heal him. Nor do I believe it would be enough power to alert the Host or Lucifer.” He nodded toward the door. “Go.”

Dean was up like a shot, excitement thrumming through him, but he paused at the door, looked back. “You coming?” he asked, as though it was expected.

“Give this gift to your friend, Dean. Celebrate with him and your brother. Something like this… it’s a time best spent with family.”

“You are family,” Dean replied. His voice was rough, almost a growl.

“I…” Castiel swallowed, his heart clenching. “Perhaps… perhaps I am _your_ family.” And the idea of it, that Dean considered him to be so, was overwhelming. “But Bobby has little love for me, and… It’s painful, sometimes, being around that power. The reminder…”

Dean’s hand slipped from the door as he stepped back toward Castiel. “Is it painful being around _me?_ ”

Castiel’s eyes were wide as he looked up at the hunter standing over him, looking hurt. “Never,” he said, and meant it with every fiber of his being. “Being around you is like…” … _being home_.

Those hard, frightened edges around Dean’s eyes softened, and he tugged Castiel up by the hand, shoving his shirt at him. “Then come and be a part of _my_ family, and take the damn credit you deserve for this even being possible.”

And what could Castiel do besides nod past the warmth that bubbled up inside him?

~*~

Gabriel found him outside afterward, leaning against a battered car in the yard while the Winchesters and the closest thing they had to a father celebrated with beer and laughter and hard hugs. He’d done as Dean had asked, had stayed while the hunter clapped a hand on Bobby’s shoulder as he leaned down to whisper something to him. He’d stayed through the disbelief and the incredulity, the awe and the impossible gratitude. He’d stayed for that first hard embrace, and was stunned when he’d received one of his own. He’d stayed through Bobby yelling for Sam to “get his ass inside and bring the beer”, and then he’d vanished silently, seeking the quiet serenity of the darkening sky outside.

“They’ll be going at it all night at this rate,” Gabriel said as he came to lean against the car next to Castiel.

“They’ve earned the right to have some joy in their lives,” Castiel replied softly, not looking away from the stars twinkling into existence.

“You’ll get no disagreements from me, bro.”

There was a moment of silence before Castiel finally glanced over to see Gabriel with his eyes closed, head tilted back, looking for all the world as though he was at peace. “I’m surprised you’re not inside with them.”

Gabriel didn’t open his eyes as he answered. “My family was out here. Let the Winchesters and Singer have their time. We can all go back to sniping at each other in the morning.”

Castiel was smiling as his eyes closed as well, and he allowed the sounds of the night to wash over him.

-


	8. Chapter 8

From his perch on the hood of the Grand Am that was stacked on top of a Taurus and, below that, a Civic, Gabriel watched Sam exit the house. He felt jittery, like there was something crawling beneath his skin, making him itch. He knew it was because he’d been cooped up too long, just like he knew there was nothing he could do about it. They’d been at Bobby’s for a week and a half, and aside from the house and the yard surrounding it, Gabriel was trapped.

He’d never been stuck in place before for so long, and he was nearly at a breaking point. Between Bobby’s and the motel they had stayed at for weeks before that, he needed to do _something_.

Anything.

He had to admit though, at least to himself, that when Sam looked up at him and grinned, and the jittery feeling increased exponentially, it wasn’t just the being trapped part that had him on edge.

“How’d you even get up there?” Sam asked from where he stood, crossing his arms and squinting against the sunlight slanting over his face.

“I have my ways,” Gabriel replied with a cocky grin. He reached over for the soda he’d brought out with him, chugged the rest of it quickly and tossed the empty can down to Sam.

The hunter scowled as he caught it. “You’ve been out here all afternoon, you planning on sleeping there too?”

“Maybe.” Gabriel shrugged, looking up at the sky. He’d said it mockingly, but there was a part of him that would welcome sleeping right there, right beneath the stars, the night air moving over him in familiar currents. Up here, on a pile of rusted out metal frames, was the closest he’d been to flying in what felt like forever.

It was enough to make his heart clench and his throat tighten, but he’d gotten better at ignoring those things now. And he was able to admit that Sam was a big part of that, but in a lot of ways, that was part of the problem, too. No matter how temporary this situation may or may not be, he needed to deal with it, learn how to be human, and he knew it. But the more he tried to let go of being an angel, the more he latched on to the only part of humanity he’d learned to love.

And _Father_ , but that was terrifying to think of, even in the privacy of his own mind.

“Gabriel.” Sam spoke softly, and when Gabriel looked down at him again, his expression was sympathetic. Like he knew why Gabriel had spent the whole day doing nothing but sitting there with his eyes closed, just _listening_ and _feeling_.

The fallen archangel rolled his eyes exaggeratedly and climbed down. When he slipped and almost fell, Sam’s hand was on his arm, steadying him.

He shoved away before he was even aware of doing so, and Sam’s eyes went from friendly and caring to distant and hard in two seconds flat.

Gabriel hated himself just a little, but it didn’t stop the grouchy, “I’m _fine_ , Sam, I don’t need your help every damn second,” from escaping. He was exhausted, _all the time_ , he was hungry, and sore, and _human_ , and he was in love with someone who he’d hurt, over and over and over, and who could never feel the same way, no matter how much of a good Samaritan the hunter felt like playing now. He’d earned the right to be a little grouchy, damn it.

Sam nodded, his expression fully shuttered now, then turned and walked back to the house without another word.

Even good Samaritans had their limits with their charity cases, it seemed.

Gabriel would never admit to how much it hurt, or how good the pain felt, when he spun around and almost broke his fist by slamming it into the Civic’s driver’s side door.

~*~

It got worse from there. The next day, Bobby handed Sam a list of items they needed from the grocery store. The older hunter was working in the panic room on a project with Dean and Castiel, and Sam’s research on grace and angelic powers had been pulling up nothing but dead ends so far…he could use the break to go out and clear his head. Gabriel cornered him on his way out the door, fully intending to go with him and try to force out the apology that had been on his tongue all day, but Sam put a quick stop to that.

“You’re going to have to stay here.”

“ _What?_ ” Gabriel’s jaw dropped.

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, me and Dean are hidden from the angels, but the only thing really keeping you and Castiel off the radar are the wards around Bobby’s at this point. We were lucky before that the few sigils we used at the motel were enough, but that’s not a good enough reason to take chances now.”

“You’re joking,” Gabriel said, angry now. “You must be joking.”

“Gabriel…” Sam’s eyes held that kicked puppy look he was so good at. “Try to understand, it’s not –”

“Oh, I understand. I understand _perfectly_ ,” he spat. “Just…go.” He walked out of the room before he could see Sam reaching out to him.

Upstairs, he spent an hour pacing, more restless than he’d ever felt in his entire existence. He could go to Castiel, he knew. Sometimes talking to his brother helped, took the edge off a little, Castiel’s demeanor enough to calm even the most rabid, out-of-control feelings. And he knew he’d done the same for Castiel more than once, especially since being at Bobby’s. But he didn’t _want_ calm, he didn’t _want_ quiet, or peaceful, or relaxed. He wanted _movement_ and _speed_ and _purpose_. He wanted his damn _freedom_ back, the freedom he’d grabbed hold of the moment he’d slipped into the persona of a pagan god, and hadn’t been without for more years than he could count. He didn’t know how to be without it, and he didn’t want to learn, he just wanted it _back_.

He glanced at the floor, where Sam’s duffle was open, the gleam of several knives and other assorted weapons shining up at him. He didn’t think, didn’t even pause for half a second to consider what he was doing. He grabbed the smallest dagger in the pile, stuck it in his boot, and strode out the door.

He got as far as the edge of Bobby’s property, right where the wards were carved into the earth, held in place by the grace Dean was getting better and better at controlling, before he finally stopped for a moment to breathe. His thoughts were muddled, hazy with the frantic need to _move_ , and all it took was the feel of the gentle breeze that tickled the back of his neck before he was back in action.

The markings he carved into the dirt were more familiar to him than any others, more familiar even than the Enochian sigils he’d known his whole life. And these markings meant more to him. The words he spoke came as easy as breathing, a chant passed to him a millennia ago and etched into his memory.

The laughter that answered the summons was better than the sound all the choirs of Heaven, and he looked up with a fondness in his eyes he could never have hoped to hide.

Loki was small, smaller even than Gabriel, with a wiry frame, pale skin and dark eyes that gleamed with mischief. His hair fell in dark strands over his face, longer than Gabriel’s but not long enough to hide the silver hoops that glinted at his ears. “It’s been too long, brother Trickster.” His lips curved as he reached out and clasped Gabriel’s arm.

“It really has,” the fallen archangel replied with a grin of his own. Being around Loki put him at ease in a way he hadn’t been in far too long. Loki really was his brother, by everything but blood and grace.

Once upon a time, Loki had taught Gabriel everything he knew.

Once upon a time, Loki had been the only being in all of Creation besides perhaps his Father who knew who Gabriel really was.

“Oh, brother, what sort of trouble have you gotten into this time?” Loki asked, eyes raking over him, seeing much deeper than just flesh and blood.

Gabriel spread his arms a bit. “Like it? New and improved.” His voice was less bitter than he’d thought it would have been, but still none too happy.

A smirk spread over Loki’s face. “You won’t like me much when I tell you humanity suits you.”

Gabriel’s bark of laughter was as sudden as it was harsh. “Well, if I can’t fit in as an angel, and I never completely fit in as a god…”

Loki patted his shoulder sympathetically. “Tell me what you need, brother. I can’t get you your grace or your godhood, but I am not useless _quite_ yet. You called me for a reason, despite my warning that we should stay parted for a time.”

“That was almost five hundred years ago, and I’ve _missed_ you,” Gabriel said, practically a whine. At Loki’s raised eyebrow, he sighed. “I just…need to get outta here. Just…just for a while. And I need to stay hidden. From _everyone_.”

“This is, of course, not outside my abilities…” Loki’s dark eyes studied him intently, and his grin, the one that seemed permanently etched to his face, widened. “This is going to get me into trouble, isn’t it?”

This time, they both laughed, and Gabriel embraced him like the brother Loki had always been to him.

There was a rush of air, a whining sound against his eardrums, and Gabriel found himself in Loki’s home, the home they’d once shared, a thousand lifetimes ago. The home carved from the very forest around them, the earth raised and grown and molded to create a safe haven, warded against anything and everything that could ever hold a grudge against a trickster god. Wards Gabriel himself had helped place. Gabriel breathed deeply, let it fill him, and turned back to Loki with the widest smile he’d worn since the day he’d first met the Winchesters.

Loki’s head was tilted, his expression considering, amusement dancing in his eyes. “So. Here we are, brother. Why don’t you start by telling me about the human you can’t seem to stop thinking about?”

With a deep sigh of resignation, Gabriel began to talk.

-


	9. Chapter 9

_I’m okay._

 _Tell Sam to stop blaming himself, and make Dean put the sleep whammy on him before he kills himself._

 _And…tell Sam I’m sorry._

-

The note was written on an innocuous scrap of paper that materialized out of thin air, propped innocently against Castiel’s untouched sandwich, four days after the fallen archangel’s disappearance.

He read it three times before handing it off to Dean, whose eyes had gone wide at the note’s sudden manifestation. “Brother,” Castiel growled to the air around them. “If Sam does not kill you when we find you, I _might_.”

There was a sound, distant but unmistakable, a whisper of laughter, and he saw Dean’s gaze dart up from the note as a faint breeze rushed past them. The hunter was on his feet in a moment, eyes lit with grace as he stared around the kitchen. “Whoever left this wasn’t Gabriel.”

Because they’d wondered, more than once, if the archangel had somehow managed to recover his grace.

“What do you sense?” Castiel asked, standing as well.

Dean shook his head, frustrated. “I don’t know. Whatever – _whoever_ – it was, it’s the same thing that I felt by the perimeter. And it’s gone now.”

“So he summoned something. Something that has the power to breach the wards.”

“What could do that, at this point?” Dean asked.

“Nothing, short of…” Castiel’s eyes flew to Dean’s. “Nothing short of a god.”

Dean’s hand clenched into a fist. “Wonderful.”

~*~

Sam was in the study, predictably. He’d barely left since they’d discovered Gabriel was missing. He’d been sleeping in there already, on the cot Bobby had set up for him, while Gabriel took one of the guest rooms upstairs and Castiel took the other. Dean, who was slowly beginning to sleep less and less, had relegated himself, again, to the couch.

Of course, to say that Sam was _sleeping_ was being generous. An hour or two here and there the past few days, when his body literally couldn’t take anymore and gave out on him. And even then, when he slept, his dreams kept him from truly resting. His worry for Gabriel was palpable, and he seemed to have taken a personal vow not to allow himself a moment of peace until the fallen archangel was found.

When Castiel showed him the short note, he rubbed a hand wearily over his face. Castiel caught the faint tremor and, glancing at Dean, it was clear that the hunter had as well.

“Gabriel, you bastard,” Sam said under his breath. His eyes went to the pile of books surrounding him.

“Sam, we have reason to believe Gabriel has sought shelter with…someone from his past here on earth.”

“A god,” Sam clarified, his eyes narrowing.

Castiel nodded. “You’ve spoken more with my brother these past weeks than anyone. If anyone would have some idea of who he would go to for help…”

Sam shook his head, sighed. “He doesn’t talk about his past, Cas. _Ever_. I don’t…” He paused, his mouth open on the next word as something occurred to him. “He…did say something, once. When he first found us, after…. When he was still having night terrors all the time, just before I woke him up once, there was a name. It seemed to calm him down a little.”

“What was the name?” Castiel noticed the way Sam hesitated, and he realized Sam didn’t feel comfortable sharing a part of Gabriel’s past that the archangel himself clearly hadn’t wanted them to know. “Sam. It’s important.”

“Danu,” Sam finally relented. “She’s Celtic…”

“A forest goddess,” Castiel said with a nod. “A…protector, of sorts. She watches over…life. Her forests, mostly, but she’s been known to take strays under her protection more than once. I’m vaguely familiar with her history.” He considered. “I don’t believe she’d have the ability to hide him, but if she knows him…she may know where he is.”

“And you really think she’d just _tell_ us?” Dean asked, speaking up for the first time as he crossed his arms and snorted. “We don’t exactly have the best track record with gods. Your brother included.”

“Dean,” Sam said, softly, not looking at his brother. Dean subsided with a sigh. One day soon, Castiel knew the Winchesters were going to need to sit and discuss Sam’s closeness to Gabriel. One day soon, Dean wouldn’t be able to ignore it any longer.

Although he had been doing a fair job ignoring many things, these past weeks.

“Do you think it’s worth a shot, Cas?” Sam asked after a moment, turning imploring eyes onto the fallen angel.

“I don’t believe it could hurt, at this point,” Castiel replied, flicking another glance at Dean. The hunter looked resigned.

Sam nodded, already moving to bring his laptop closer to him. “I’ll start looking, tracking down summoning rituals.”

Dean stepped forward, placing a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Sammy, you need sleep. You’re not gonna be any good to Gabriel if you collapse on us.”

It spoke volumes about how worried Dean was, if he was using that to try and get Sam to see reason.

“I’m fine,” Sam replied stubbornly. “This shouldn’t take long, and I can –”

“Sam.” Grace bled into that voice, infusing it with a power and authority Dean Winchester did not normally possess. Sam was powerless to do anything other than look up at Dean, his hazel eyes wide. A flicker of regret passed over Dean’s face as his hand came up, brushed over Sam’s forehead.

When Sam slumped forward, Dean caught him, lifting him almost effortlessly and placing him on the cot. He gazed down for a long moment. “Sleep well, little brother.” He turned the intensity of his stare onto Castiel, who found himself shivering under it. “Let’s find this damn summoning.”

~*~

The fourth time Dean’s gaze went to his brother’s still form, Castiel decided it was no longer worth the effort of keeping his silence. “He’ll forgive you for this, Dean. He’ll know you were only looking out for him.”

Dean looked back down at the book in front of him, his face flushed. “Yeah, no, I know.”

Castiel’s head tilted. “Then what’s troubling you so deeply?”

Silence reigned for a few minutes, Dean flipping idly through pages, Castiel still and silent as he waited for an answer. Finally Dean’s hand came down on the table and he sighed. “It’s just, I mean, he’s killin’ himself over this. Over _Gabriel_. Sammy’s always cared too much, y’know? But this is different.” He looked at Castiel like he was hoping Castiel would disprove what he was saying, but all the fallen angel could do was look at him, his gaze unblinking, and Dean sighed again. “Sam and Gabriel? Really?” His lips pulled down unhappily. “I mean, what the hell, man?”

“Surely you haven’t been blind to it this whole time,” Castiel said, gently.

Dean’s eyes went back to Sam. “No…I just hoped…”

“Not everyone can so easily ignore it when they fall in love.” Castiel’s voice was quiet, his eyes not wavering from Dean’s, cerulean so intent upon jade that he didn’t – _couldn’t_ – miss the way Dean’s grace flared in response to the words. The hunter opened and closed his mouth several times, half formed words upon his tongue, and Castiel took pity on him, looking away. Now wasn’t the time anyway, not with so much going on. “Sam has done more for Gabriel in the past several weeks than you or I ever could have. And I believe Gabriel has done much for Sam, as well. If they have found something in each other that gives them happiness, who are we to deny them that?”

Dean leaned back with another sigh. “I get what you’re saying, but…it’s _Gabriel_. Guy hasn’t exactly been the best thing to ever happen to us, in the past. And I get that he’s trying now…or until he pulled this shit, anyway…and I get that he…cares about Sam, in his own fucked up way. But it doesn’t exactly change the past three years, either.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Castiel agreed, causing Dean to look up in some surprise. “He was scared, more than he’ll probably ever admit to. But that does not excuse what he put you and your brother through.” He paused. “But Dean, that’s what forgiveness is _for_. Sam knows Gabriel’s flaws, knows what he has been and done in his past. And he has forgiven him, allowed himself to care for him, because he can look past it and see who Gabriel truly is.”

Dean scowled. “Yeah, well, why’d he up and leave now, then?”

Castiel laughed, an ironic sort of laughter that he realized came out far more heartbroken than he’d intended. “Because Gabriel cannot look upon his past and feel that he’s worthy of being forgiven. Or loved.”

There was perfect silence as they stared at each other for several long moments, Dean’s soul laid bare in his eyes, and everything Castiel had been trying to say for so long in his.

~*~

“I think I got it,” Dean said wearily, several hours later. The sun had long since gone down, and whatever tension existed between them had been set aside long enough to find Gabriel. Castiel didn’t mind…he felt he’d gotten his point across as clearly as he was ever going to.

He looked over at the book spread open in front of Dean, eyes darting over the pages, before finally nodding. “Yes, that’s it. A few words off, I believe, but nothing I can’t accommodate for. I should be able to do the summoning tonight.”

“Wait, why you?” Dean asked, looking unhappy. “Sammy or I can –”

“Dean.” Castiel gave the hunter a small smile. “My grace did not infuse you with all of the knowledge I have gathered and possessed my entire existence, at least not in any way you’ve learned to access yet. Whereas I still possess the ability to read and speak fluently the languages of the ancient Celtic people. Believe it or not, I’m not entirely useless.” It was said lightly, teasingly, because he _wasn’t_ useless, grace or no grace, and it was nice to be able to prove it.

Across the room, Sam was beginning to stir, and Castiel took the opportunity when Dean’s eyes slid away to take the book and stand to go find the materials he would need to complete the ritual…all things he imagined Bobby would have conveniently lying around the house.

Dean called back to him just as he was reaching for the door. “ _Don’t_ go summoning things without us there for backup.”

“Of course not, Dean,” Castiel said agreeably, that smile still tugging at the corners of his lips. “See to your brother, and meet me outside in an hour.”

~*~

The blood flowed freely from his palm into the earth as the words danced from his tongue, ancient and powerful. The air stirred around them, and Dean’s eyes lit as he reached out with his grace for any sort of supernatural disturbance.

She appeared before them slowly, wavering in the darkness, becoming more solid as Castiel finished the chant. Dean moved back behind Castiel to stand with Sam, as Castiel had instructed before they’d begun.

Her hair was wild around her, eyes dark with anger, skin shimmering very faintly in the starlight. “You call me as though you have the right. What need have you, that could be more important than my duties to my home?”

Even low with anger and distrust, her voice was like music. Castiel stayed kneeling, head bowed in a show of respect. Behind him, he could all but feel the tension radiating from Sam and Dean, and he silently begged his charge to hold his tongue and to stay still. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you, Lady,” he said carefully. “I need your assistance, but only if you’re willing to provide it.”

She hissed out her displeasure. “Rise. Let me see who summons me this way.”

Castiel stood gracefully, his eyes rising to hers. When her own viridian eyes widened in recognition, he made a sound of confusion. “I have not met you, yet you know me.”

“I know you, Castiel of the angels,” she acknowledged. “You and your mercy, which you once showed a perceived enemy, against your companion’s will.” She smiled at his obvious confusion. “All forests have ears, Castiel, and mine hear more than most. My forest liked you very much. Your companion, the angry grace-bearer with the sharp temper and hateful words, it did not.”

 _Uriel_ , Castiel realized. _After Anna escaped, when he was adamant that we kill Sam_. It was so long ago, it seemed. A lifetime.

“For that reason, and that reason only, I remain to hear your words.” She studied him. “You’ve fallen far since then, yet you shine brighter than ever you did before. I know another like you. It seems likely that is why you’ve called me here.”

“Yes, Lady,” Castiel said, mind racing at her words. Gods were known to be cryptic, things always meaning more than what was said. “I need to find my brother, and you may be the only one who can help.”

Her eyes were piercing. “Why would I help you? You, the family who hurt him, left him to us. We, who became his family, who loved him as one of us for lifetimes while you warred amongst yourselves. Why would _I_ help _you?_ ”

Castiel’s head bowed again, her defense of Gabriel cutting him to the core, because the words she spoke were true, unbearably so. Beside him, Sam stepped forward, and when the hunter spoke, his voice was fervent. “Because we – the three of us here before you – are as much his family as you are. Because we care about him…love him…as much as you do.”

She stared at him for a long moment before her lips curved into a slow smile as she nodded. “That, Sam Winchester, is the correct answer. You are all I knew you to be, and all I’d hoped for him.”

Sam blinked wide eyes at her words as she stepped forward, the movement airy and graceful, her dress of leaves swirling about her legs. She held out her palm, on which rested three brilliantly green leaves, each marked with an unfamiliar symbol at their center. “You seek your lost angel, and these will take you there. Chew them slowly. I’ll not go with you…the time is not yet come when gods raise cups together. But the forests are ever watchful, and my thoughts are with you.”

“Thank you, Danu,” Sam said softly. “Thank you for helping us find Gabriel.”

Her eyes lit up, and she laughed musically. “Gabriel. Of course, and why not?” Her smile was wide and kind as she bowed her head to Sam. “You are welcome. And perhaps, should you call on me again, I shall come without need for ritual and bloodshed.”

She winked, and then she was gone, the three of them left blinking at each other and the leaves Castiel now held.

-


	10. Chapter 10

Gabriel only looked up from the book he was reading when he heard Loki hiss out an angry breath. The god’s dark eyes were lit with fire, and Gabriel could almost feel the tension radiating from him. “What’s up?” he asked warily.

“They’re here,” Loki replied, standing. He snapped his fingers and the room around them – luxurious and decadent and very much an illusion – dissolved, until they were back in the grove that made up Loki’s true home.

Gabriel’s eyes closed and he sighed. “They were bound to find me eventually. Not exactly unexpected.”

“They had help,” Loki growled, “or they never would have made it as far as they did.”

It wasn’t often the god was this angry, but Gabriel understood it. His home – his sanctuary – had been breached, even if the others couldn’t see past the wards and illusions Loki had surrounding it.

“Hey Loki?” Gabriel said. “Remember that these are people I care about, huh? Try to avoid anything painful? Or permanent?”

The god’s expression smoothed a little bit, and he shot his best impression of an innocent look at Gabriel. “Brother, if I didn’t know you better, I’d question how much faith you have in me.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow, but at least he was relatively secure in his family’s likelihood to come out of this encounter mostly intact…

…except that when the woods shimmered, and the Winchesters and Castiel appeared before them, Dean was staring at Loki with murder in his eyes, and Loki’s stance was more menacing than Gabriel had seen it in a couple thousand years, and he had just enough time to think, _oh, shit,_ before Dean was coming at Loki with a damn _sword_ made of grace and fury and vengeance.

He’d never known what it felt like to witness things in slow motion before, to be completely powerless, frozen in place as though held by iron clamps, but that’s what this was like. He couldn’t move, could barely even breathe as Loki danced out of the way of Dean’s first strike. The god snapped his fingers, and lightning arched across the sky, striking down inches from where Dean was standing. Dean swung again, three strikes that Loki dodged in quick succession before vanishing and reappearing behind the hunter, eyes burning.

Dean had grace on his side and wasn’t so easily taken off his guard. He spun, blade raised, swung down just as Loki clapped. He landed a glancing blow to the god’s arm just as a wall of flame rose around him. The fire wouldn’t – _couldn’t_ – hurt Dean, not powered by grace as he was, but years of instinct were undoubtedly hard to fight, and he was as good as trapped.

Loki, blood dripping from the wound in his arm, looked skyward, raising his arms high and calling the lightning to him.

“ _Dean!_ ”

Nothing on earth could have cleared Gabriel’s head faster than hearing the terrified cry of Sam Winchester. Suddenly able to move again, able to breathe past the intense, crippling fear, Gabriel stepped forward. “ _Enough!_ ” he bellowed.

Everything around him froze. Not literally – not in the sense that Loki froze time itself – but everything went very abruptly still. Not a sound could be heard besides the crackling of the flames dancing around Dean. Gabriel shot a glance to where Castiel and Sam were standing, saw Sam’s ashen, petrified expression. He had to turn away, and his eyes found Loki’s.

The god growled. “He came here, into _my_ home –”

“Release him.” Gabriel’s tone was steel. When Loki would have argued, he hardened it further. “Release him, brother, or so help me, from this day forward you are no family of mine.”

It hurt…oh _Father_ , those words hurt…but he wouldn’t stand here and watch his family kill each other.

Not again.

Loki’s eyes were wide with betrayal, and it cut Gabriel to the core, but the god raised his hand, snapped, and the flames vanished. When Dean would have stepped forward, Gabriel’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “Dean Winchester, you _will_ drop that sword.” The hunter opened his mouth. “ _Now_.” If it had been infused with the grace of an archangel, his command would not have rang out more powerfully than it did in that moment.

The sword faded back into grace and energy, and something in Gabriel’s chest loosened. In the corner of his eye, he saw Castiel take a step forward, and he raised a hand, telling his brother and Sam without words to stay where they were, just a little longer.

His eyes flicked from Dean to Loki and back. “Now. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you two’ve met.”

Dean tensed, and Loki’s expression shifted into a familiar smirk. A mask, but only someone who’d known him for practically an eternity would know that.

“Fucker damn near killed my dad eight years ago.” Dean’s lip curled. “Shoulda known he was a goddamn Trickster.”

“Careful, Dean,” Gabriel said warningly. “This is Loki’s turf you just barged in on, guns blazing, and I doubt I can stop him again. Now, you two clearly have some issues that need dealing with.” He crossed his arms. “Get to it. _No powers allowed_. Play nice.” He glared at each of them in turn, was surprised when Loki was the first to crack.

“For whatever…grievances you have with me for past offenses, you have my…” He stopped, turned a dark look on Gabriel, whose eyebrow slid up in response. Loki’s gaze turned skyward. “My apologies,” he finally ground out.

Dean’s eyes went to Sam, and he stared at his little brother for a long time before finally muttering to Loki, “’M sorry for tryin’ to cut you in half with my kick-ass power sword.” Gabriel cleared his throat pointedly, and Dean rolled his eyes. “ _Fine_. I’m sorry for trying to kill you.” The _this time_ that he tacked onto the end in a low voice, Gabriel decided to ignore.

“There now,” the fallen archangel said, clapping his hands together. “Isn’t it nice when we can all just get along?”

Loki’s dark eyes found his again, and Gabriel tried to say with a look everything that he needed to. _I’m sorry, brother. I’m so sorry._ Loki held his gaze for an agonizing eternity, and then he finally nodded.

Relief flooded Gabriel, making his legs feel a little like jelly, but there were still two more people he had to face, and he knew it wouldn’t be easy. He turned to go to where he’d had Sam and Castiel wait but stopped short, eyes widening when he found Sam right behind him, glowering down at Gabriel with those intense, gorgeous hazel eyes. He opened his mouth, some sort of apology already forming on his tongue, but he never got it out because suddenly, Sam was _kissing_ him, his hand on Gabriel’s back, his mouth furiously possessive on the fallen archangel’s.

Everything in Gabriel went weak, his hands fluttering uselessly at his sides, and he might have fallen except that Sam was right there, holding onto him, mouth still moving over his as his tongue darted past Gabriel’s lips to twine with his. He was _claiming_ Gabriel with everything he was somehow pouring into just a _kiss_ , and Gabriel didn’t ever want it to stop, wanted to just let himself drown in this, in _Sam._

The hunter pulled away slowly, and Gabriel came back to himself, blinking up at him. “Sam…?”

“You ever do something _that fucking stupid_ again, we’re going to have serious words.” Sam leaned down, resting his forehead against Gabriel’s, and the fallen archangel closed his eyes as something inside of him pieced itself together.

“Always meant to come back,” he murmured. “Just wanted to…get over you a little, first.”

Sam laughed, the sound coming out a little broken. “Hope you didn’t pull that off. That would really make being in love with you suck for me.”

Gabriel’s head was spinning, and honestly, how much was he supposed to be able to handle at once? Human bodies _clearly_ hadn’t been created to go through a roller coaster of emotions like this one, not so quickly. He didn’t know which way was up, couldn’t even _start_ to comprehend what his reaction was supposed to be here.

It was Loki’s soft chuckle that permeated the fog that had settled into his head, made him freeze. His breath stuttered in his chest as he drew away from Sam slowly, his eyes wide. This wasn’t real, _couldn’t_ be real. Of course not, and that made sense. Loki had forgiven him, but no trickster god worth his salt would let something like what he’d done just _go_. Not even for family.

This…this was nothing more than Loki’s revenge, and oh, _Father_ , it hurt. _This_ was what it felt like, a Trickster sowing discord, reaping just desserts? This aching void in the gut? _This_ was what he’d been doing to people these thousands of years? This was…

This was some sort of hell.

He hadn’t felt the blood drain from his face, hadn’t realized he’d stopped breathing until Sam’s hands on his face drew him from the numbing shock, hazel eyes boring into his own amber ones.

“Gabriel,” the hunter said. “What’s wrong?”

“That may be my fault,” Loki said, and Gabriel wouldn’t – _couldn’t_ – turn to face him. He _heard_ the smirk in the god’s voice. “Gabriel knows my style, and it seems he’s inferred your declaration to be some sort of… _trick_.”

Sam leaned down, touched his forehead to Gabriel’s. “You _idiot_ ,” he muttered, his voice fond. “You might deserve it, for about a thousand reasons at the moment, but your family wouldn’t do that to you. You can’t believe that.” He pulled back, just enough to capture Gabriel’s eyes again, and Gabriel forced himself not to look away, forced himself to look for the signs that he knew would show this to be Loki’s doing.

They weren’t there. The only thing there was… _Sam_ , and no one could pull off those wide eyes, that deeply imploring gaze, the way Sam Winchester could.

Which meant this really was real.

Which meant…

Which meant Sam Winchester was in love with him.

“Oh…” was about all he could manage. From somewhere very, very far away, there was the sound of someone snapping, and Sam and Gabriel both looked up as the rainbow arched high above them.

Sam laughed, and Gabriel turned an incredulous gaze on Loki, who shrugged unrepentantly. “It seemed appropriate,” the god said with a smirk. To his left, Dean turned a considering look on the being he’d just been avidly trying to kill, one corner of his lips tugging up.

“Loki…” Gabriel said.

“It’s done, brother. Let’s not speak of it again.”

Gabriel nodded, turned away, and it was at about that point that he caught sight of Castiel, who was standing by Dean’s side, reassuring himself that the hunter was all right even while his sad eyes were trained on Gabriel.

Guilt, again, hit him low in the gut, and he pulled away from Sam with an apologetic look. Some things, a lot of things it seemed right now, had to come first, and he thought Sam probably understood that by the way his hand squeezed Gabriel’s briefly before releasing.

But Castiel stopped him before he could make it more than a few steps. “We’ll talk at a later time, Gabriel.”

There was already forgiveness in those bright blue eyes, and Gabriel wanted to yell, wanted to shake Castiel for being such an idiot and letting him off the hook too easily, because there was no way in _hell_ Gabriel deserved it. He’d made a habit of running away, and it was about time somebody called him on it.

It took a moment for the realization to slam into him. Castiel _was_ calling him on it, by forcing him to admit it to _himself_.

The bastard.

He gave his brother a tight nod, let some of what he was feeling show in his eyes. Made sure Castiel saw the love and the gratitude he felt that his brother was willing to forgive him, willing to give him another chance. By Castiel’s expression, he got the message loud and clear.

“Well now, you’ve got what you came for,” Loki said to the group, tossing a surreptitious wink in Gabriel’s direction that had the fallen archangel grinning a little helplessly. Then the god’s gaze went back to the others, fixing on each of them in turn. “Lucifer has been on the move, preparing for his final endgame. The whole planet whispers in fear, and here you stand, wasting time when you should be getting ready. I suggest you run along now, _children_ , and do what you must to prepare however you can.”

Castiel piped up before Dean could say whatever comment was clearly on the tip of his tongue. “Getting back may prove problematic without your assistance,” he told the god cautiously.

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Speaking of which, how did you even get _here?_ ”

Loki scoffed. “They reek of earth magic.”

“Danu?” Gabriel blinked. “You morons summoned _Danu?_ ”

“At the moment, I think it a more pressing concern that they’re stranded with no way home.” Loki smirked at Dean. “Wings don’t work, boy?”

Dean tensed, and Gabriel cleared his throat loudly before they could start fighting again. Besides him, Sam quickly stifled a chuckle, and even Castiel’s lips were twitching as he bowed his head and looked away. To Loki, Gabriel said, “S’not like any of us had a way to teach him.”

“Ahh, well then. I suppose the first thing that must be addressed…” The god let the sentence trail off and snapped his fingers.

Brilliant light engulfed Dean, and before anyone could so much as move, the hunter was crying out, dropping to one knee, his hand clawing, digging into the ground as the light brightened, coalesced, _flared_ outward, so radiant that for a moment, even Gabriel had to shield his eyes.

When he finally dared to open them again, the light was gone. Dean still knelt in the same position, his head bowed, breathing harsh and ragged, shoulders trembling. What caught Gabriel’s attention, though, were the large, dove-gray wings spread out from his shoulder blades, arching over him, feathers trembling in the light breeze, shining from the light of the sun.

Sam’s eyes were wide, his jaw slack, but it was nothing to the gaze Castiel had fixed on his charge. There was reverence in the way Castiel knelt, touched Dean’s shoulder. Awe that he couldn’t keep from his voice as he asked if Dean was all right.

“There now, he’s fine,” Loki said, head tilting so that one silver hooped earring caught the sunlight and glinted brightly. “The first time one’s true form is forced to manifest from within a vessel is the most difficult. Dramatic, a little painful. Soon enough, he won’t even need to manifest his wings to be able to fly.”

“Brother,” Gabriel said as Dean raised baleful, grace-filled eyes to glare at the god. Loki seemed not to notice the hunter’s gaze. “Just curious, but, uh…who’s gonna teach him?”

“I suppose it falls to me,” Loki replied with a sigh of the long-suffering.

“Like _hell_ ,” Dean growled, wings twitching. He stood slowly, adjusting to the shift in balance, Castiel’s hand steady on his arm.

Loki’s eyes flashed. “You have very little choice, _boy_. You either accept my help…agree to stay here long enough for me to train you…or you face your adversary without one of your greatest assets. I suggest you choose both wisely and _quickly_ , because we _all_ run short on time.”

“Dean…” That was Castiel, solemn and earnest. “Loki is right. There are many things I can teach you even without my grace, but this…this is not one of them. He has the power to help you that I lack.”

Gabriel watched Dean search Castiel’s eyes for a long moment, the two of them holding one of their silent, meaningful conversations, and he felt a tug on his hand. His eyes found Sam’s.

“You should both stay,” Sam said, voice too low for anyone else save maybe Loki to hear.

Gabriel sighed. “I don’t –”

The hunter leaned down, pressed a kiss to his forehead, and _Father_ , what was this man doing to him that such a touch made him tremble? “I know. I came here to bring you home, but I think Loki _is_ right. We need every advantage we can get. And if we leave Dean here alone…”

“They’ll kill each other,” Gabriel muttered. “I know.”

Sam smiled, a little crookedly. “Besides that, and brothers trying to kill each other aside, you’re happier…calmer…than I’ve seen you in a long time. Much as I hate admitting it, being here has been good for you.”

It was hard to deny that, with how much Loki had done to help him settle the craziest of the overwhelming human emotions. But… “Didn’t _know_ before that I had you waiting for me.” It wasn’t a whine. It _wasn’t_.

“I’ll still be waiting,” Sam promised, and kissed him again. Gabriel allowed himself a second to lose himself in the feel of that mouth pressed against his own before reluctantly pulling away and looking to Loki.

“Looks like you’re gonna be stuck with _two_ houseguests,” he said with a grin. His eyes, though, were seeking a permission he’d never needed to ask before.

Loki granted it with a matching smirk of his own, his dark eyes bright and cheerful. “You’ll be staying to babysit, then?”

Gabriel laughed outright, and he watched Sam walk over to his brother, distracting him before the hunter could make a comment. “So hey, promise not to get yourself killed by an angry god and his ex-god best friend?”

Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I’ll be fine. You promise to stop thinking how sexy Gabriel is being all badass? ‘Cause seriously, dude, _nightmares_.”

“If you stayed out of my head, you wouldn’t have this problem,” Sam groused, blushing, and yeah, Gabriel was definitely enjoying this far too much. The brothers embraced each other tightly, and Castiel nodded to his own brother.

“We’ll talk, Gabriel. I promise,” the fallen angel said softly.

“That a threat or a reassurance?” Gabriel asked.

Castiel only smiled, but Gabriel figured maybe that was answer enough. He nodded to Castiel just as Sam came back to him, and they said their goodbyes with soft kisses and gentle touches that a week ago, he’d thought impossible. Sam’s kisses were edged with just a hint of desperation, a hint of hardness that spoke of what Gabriel had to look forward to, and he fought to keep himself from pressing closer, going deeper.

There would be time later.

He drew away slowly, quirked a smile at the hunter. Saw Castiel and Dean finish their own quiet conversation. Watched Loki take them all in, the god shaking his head in something that was both amusement and resignation.

And then Loki snapped, and Sam and Castiel were gone.

-


	11. Chapter 11

Sam was fidgeting. He hadn’t been able to keep still for longer than a few minutes at a time for days, and while at first Castiel had been quietly amused by the uncharacteristic behavior, a nice change from the worry he felt every time he stopped to consider Sam and Gabriel and their new relationship, it was beginning to… _drive him up a wall_ – an expression he’d come across that quite aptly described how he was feeling at the moment.

Research was going slowly, and they were both on edge because of that. Knowing Lucifer was out there, and things were reaching a breaking point with the Apocalypse, and being unable to do anything but flip through musty tomes…. It was maddening. Sam’s behavior whenever he thought of Gabriel was a welcome distraction for a time, but Castiel could only take so much. He’d been concerned for his brother since he’d first realized how the fallen archangel felt about Sam. The _fidgeting_ only brought that concern closer and closer to the surface, the more he was forced to think about it.

“ _Sam_ ,” he finally said on the fifth day. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to will away the headache forming behind his eyes. The incessant tapping of Sam’s pen stopped, and Castiel raised his eyes to meet the hunter’s. “He’ll be back soon, you know. They will both be.”

“I know,” Sam said, looking down. Castiel saw that he was blushing, trying to hide it. “I just…I’m worried about Dean, that’s all.”

Castiel snorted, rolled his eyes when Sam’s head snapped up and he stared at the fallen angel, shocked. “I’ve been human for some time now, spending the vast majority of my time with your brother, and you’re not only surprised that I’ve picked up some of his habits, but that I can read you better than you realized? Really, Sam.”

The blush darkened. “All right, so…yes. I miss Gabriel, okay?”

“That much…” He glanced at Sam’s knee, which had started bouncing. “…was obvious.” He closed the book in front of him, folded his hands on top of it and fixed his gaze on the hunter. “Speaking of my brother, there’s something I would like to discuss with you.”

Sam froze, his eyes sliding up to Castiel’s and holding for a long moment before he blew out a slow breath and sat back in his chair. His arms were crossed over his chest in a way that looked guarded, rather than nonchalant. Castiel almost – _almost_ – smirked. “Sure,” Sam said. “What’s up?”

“I’ll admit to some…concern, over your relationship with Gabriel.” He held up a hand, forestalling Sam when the hunter opened his mouth to speak. “It’s not something I haven’t seen coming. I can see that you love him, and I don’t doubt that he feels the same, given what I witnessed last week. But Sam, you must understand that Gabriel’s not as…unbreakable as he would have others believe.” He sighed softly. “Imagine if you’d left for your school, and Dean never came for you. Is there not a part of you that would feel empty, knowing he didn’t care enough to do so?”

Sam swallowed, nodding.

“Take that feeling, and multiply it by millennia. No one in Heaven knew where he was, and no one cared enough to find out. So caught up with the war, it was generally assumed he had perished. He came here to hide, but when no one came after him, I think it…broke something in him, more than even the fighting could have. He loves you, Sam, likely with everything that he is. But I believe that giving himself over to that love was one of the most difficult things he’s ever done. Opening himself enough to do so, after everything…”

“I understand, Cas,” Sam said quietly.

“My point is, if you hurt him, Sam Winchester, no force on earth or in Heaven will be able to protect you, and I now have every reason to believe I’m not the only of his brothers to feel that way.”

Sam blinked at him a few times, and then nodded again, very slowly. “I won’t, Cas. You have to know that’s…that’s the last thing I’d ever do.” He tried to smile, but it looked a little pained. “I promise, you – and Loki, for that matter – can trust me.”

“I do,” Castiel replied, his lips turning up. “Which is the only reason you ever made it this far.”

This time, the smile Sam gave him was genuine. “Hey, Cas…just so you know?” Castiel tilted his head, waiting. “The same goes for you.”

“I don’t…” Castiel looked away, his heart clenching painfully. “Dean and I don’t have that sort of relationship.”

“I’m not blind, you know,” Sam said, gently. “I know how you feel about my brother. I’m _glad_ , I am. Dean deserves to have someone love him that much. But…”

“I would never hurt him.” Castiel met Sam’s gaze again. “Not for anything.”

“And if you have to leave someday?” Sam asked evenly.

“I won’t.”

“Everyone who Dean’s ever cared about has left him, at some point. It would kill him, to fall in love with you and then watch you leave too.”

The idea of it…the _pain_ trying to leave Dean would bring…would destroy _him_ as well. He’d never be able to. “My Father Himself could not tear me from Dean’s side,” Castiel vowed, his voice low.

Sam’s eyes searched his face for a long moment, before the hunter finally nodded. “Well,” he said with a small grin. “Glad we got that all cleared up.”

Castiel’s lips curved up in another smile, and he tried to believe that someday, Dean would both believe in and welcome Castiel’s unwavering devotion to him. That someday, Dean would believe himself worthy of it.

He tried not to feel envy at the way his brother had finally welcomed Sam into his heart.

~*~

Bobby called on the eighth day, on the road between a haunting in Dayton and a demon problem in Nebraska, to tell them to turn on the news. Sam said he’d sounded upset, and had hung up before Sam ever had a chance to reply.

Castiel turned on the old television set in the living room, sinking down to the chair as horrific images flashed across the screen.

Storms had flooded the east coast, casting whole states in darkness and terror. Entire lakes had abruptly turned acidic, leaving them and the land around them dead and uninhabitable. Hundreds of thousands of cattle deaths had spread throughout the Midwest. Cities and towns were at war with each other over land, food, safety.

The world was on the brink of something it could never hope to understand.

~*~

“It’s the work of the horsemen,” Castiel said later. “They’re growing more active as Lucifer grows impatient. He’ll make his final move before the next few weeks are out. I’m almost positive of it.”

Sam was silent, his jaw clenched. His eyes closed as he took a breath, released it. Some of the tension drained out of him, but none of the anger. When he looked at Castiel again, rage burned in his eyes.

“We’ll keep looking,” the fallen angel said softly. “If there’s a way to track him and trap him, we’ll find it.”

Sam didn’t answer except to grab the nearest book. Castiel followed suit, praying to a Father who’d long since stopped listening.

~*~

On the tenth day, Castiel woke from a dreamless sleep to the sound of wingbeats and a rush of wind passing over him. He blinked, lifted his head from the book it had been pillowed on. Blinked again when Dean’s jade eyes swam into view. Gabriel stood next to him, gazing down at Sam with a warm expression Castiel had never seen on his face before. Sam had apparently fallen asleep as well, and unlike Castiel, he hadn’t been woken by their brothers’ appearance. Gabriel seemed utterly besotted by the sight of him drooling on the tabletop, and some of the worry Castiel had been harboring for his brother and this newfound relationship dissipated in an instant.

“Dean,” Castiel said, quietly, refocusing on the hunter. Dean’s eyes met his and held, a smile creeping over his face, warming Castiel, making his heart stutter. He hadn’t realized quite how much he’d missed Dean until that very moment. And the sight of the hunter – eyes sparkling, face flushed, wings spread – made Castiel long to do things that he didn’t have the right to. Made him long to pull Dean into his arms, kiss him breathless, taste him and take him and _love_ him, in all the ways Dean didn’t know how to accept. He turned his eyes down, forced himself to breathe. “Why are your wings out?” he asked when he dared to look up again.

The grin widened, and Dean shrugged. “Felt like making an entrance.”

Gabriel snorted. “Or he’s just a show-off,” he muttered, but Dean just turned his grin on the fallen archangel and raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, and I don’t know _anybody_ I coulda picked that up from.”

Gabriel’s smirk was, in a word, devilish. Castiel watched the interaction in surprise. He’d suspected that being forced together for so long would possibly increase the slight animosity and hostility that still lingered between them, especially if Dean felt outnumbered with Loki’s presence as well. Against his expectations, it seemed the opposite had happened, leaving them bantering like old friends. A little more of his worry for Gabriel trickled away…. The archangel was clearly creating his own family, a little at a time. And it was very likely Sam’s presence in his life had everything to do with that.

Sam stirred just as Dean’s wings shimmered and withdrew from sight, sitting up and rubbing at his face before his eyes were even fully open.

“Morning, lover.” Gabriel beamed happily as he moved to drop himself in Sam’s lap…something he made look effortless, despite Sam’s chair being only half pushed out from the table. “You miss me?” Sam barely had time to blink in surprise before Gabriel darted in to kiss him, and the younger Winchester was robbed of speech entirely.

Amused, Castiel’s gaze landed on Dean again, and he found the hunter watching him with dark, intense eyes. His breath caught, and they stared at each other for an endless span of time, Castiel frozen on the edge of what felt like _promise_.

The moment was broken when Gabriel pulled away from Sam with a loud smack of his lips. Castiel turned away from Dean quickly, his face flushed and his body wanting…. He wanted _so much_.

He looked to Gabriel to ground himself, read the gentleness in his brother’s eyes. When Gabriel spoke, though, he let it pass unacknowledged, and Castiel forced himself to relax a little, feeling grateful to the fallen archangel.

“Sorry we were gone longer than expected. As it turns out, teaching an angel to fly ain’t easy, even for a god with not inconsiderable powers.” Gabriel’s amber eyes slid to Dean. “Course, in this case, that student may just have been particularly slow…”

One of Dean’s hands flashed out, cuffed Gabriel on the back of the head, but they were both grinning. Castiel caught Sam’s wide-eyed gaze, and he shook his head with a smile, the universal way of saying, _What can you do?_ Sam’s answering laughter was both disbelieving and joyful.

“So,” Dean finally said, sobering a little. “You guys manage to get anything to help us find and ice the devil?”

“Not yet,” Sam answered with a frown as he looked over their stacks of thus far useless books. “Unless you’ve got any ideas, guess all we can do is keep looking.”

Castiel watched curiously as Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, about that…” the hunter said, and now even Gabriel was looking at him inquisitively. “I, uh…. I think our best bet’s probably gonna be finding God, actually.”

Sam and Gabriel’s mouths fell open, but Castiel barely noticed. He had gone rigid as shock coursed through him. “ _What?_ ” he ground out. “Dean, my Father is…gone. Or dead. Or simply…indifferent. You of _all people_ …”

“I know,” Dean said, his eyes downcast. “I know, Cas, I do, but…”

“But _what?_ ”

Dean’s eyes, when he raised them back to Castiel’s, swirled with confusion bordering on pain bordering on sympathy. Castiel’s heart clenched for entirely new reasons now. “But I’ve been having these dreams.”

-


	12. Chapter 12

Everything was very quiet while they all stared at Dean with varying degrees of confusion and disbelief. It was Gabriel who moved first, climbing off of Sam’s lap with a dangerous, lethal sort of grace as he stared the hunter down. He crossed his arms. “Come again?” he demanded.

At his tone, Dean’s look turned scathing. “I said I’ve been having dreams.”

“You’ve barely _slept_ ,” Gabriel said, raising an incredulous eyebrow. “And definitely not long enough to dream much of _anything_ , beyond maybe a quickie in the bathroom.” Dean’s eyes narrowed, but Gabriel plowed on, disbelief giving way to an anger he didn’t entirely understand. “Must’ve been a helluva blowjob, to convince you it was from God.”

“Gabriel.” Castiel’s voice was low, a warning. He was standing now as well, lapis eyes fixed firmly on his brother, but neither his posture nor his tone were enough to get Gabriel to back down.

“I’ve been with him for _days_ ,” Gabriel said. “People don’t dream in the small amount of time he’s actually slept. _Angels_ don’t dream _period_.” Beside him, he felt Sam stand, a warm presence he could barely acknowledge right now, with the fury that was white-hot and roiling in his gut.

“I don’t know what to tell you.” Dean’s voice had reverted to calm, his eyes sliding to Castiel’s and holding for a long moment before he turned back to Gabriel. He was steadier than he had any right to be in the face of Gabriel’s anger, and all it did was piss Gabriel off more.

“Gabriel, he’s not truly an angel,” Castiel said quietly, making Gabriel roll his eyes. Before he could make any sort of sarcastic comeback, though, Castiel was continuing. “We don’t know –”

“We do know!” the fallen archangel growled. “We know they’re not a sign of _God_ –” he practically spat the word, “– because Dad’s _gone_. And you know it, Castiel! You _know_ it!” Sam’s hand came to rest on his arm, presumably to calm him down, and it took a lot of willpower not to shrug it off and lash out at the hunter who was only trying to help. Meanwhile, he continued staring Dean down, all sense of camaraderie they’d built during their time with Loki vanishing as he struggled to understand. Of all people…of _all people_ he’d trusted not to have to worry about bringing this madness – this _pain_ – into his life again… “What kinds of dreams?” he finally grit out.

Dean held his gaze for a long moment, then finally released a slow breath. “There’s a garden, or a forest, or something. It’s hard to tell. Then there’s a voice. Then a flash of light, and I wake up. That’s all. Usually, no more than five minutes have passed since falling asleep.”

Gabriel gave him a dry look. “Wow. Awesome visuals Winchester, you’ve really helped me grasp these awe-inspiring dreams of yours.” He paused, clenching his jaw. “Show me,” he said after a moment. At Dean’s utterly blank look, he rolled his eyes. “Use your nifty angel mojo to pop the dream into my head. You want to know if this is a sign of God, you’re gonna want someone who actually knows the big guy to tell you.”

“I don’t like people wandering around in my head,” Dean griped. Castiel gave a small, somewhat inappropriate snort of laughter that had Dean glowering at him and Gabriel fighting a tiny sense of pride.

“Lucky for you, I’m no more eager to be in your head than you are to have me there,” Gabriel said. “You do this right, and all you’ll be doing is showing me what you want me to see. Like a movie, only without the popcorn.”

Dean stared at him, glanced back at Castiel. The fallen angel nodded minutely, and Dean relaxed. Gabriel gave an exaggerated eyeroll. “Fine,” Dean said, stepping toward Gabriel. “But fair warning, if I scramble your brain permanently, I ain’t apologizing. Dick.” The last word was said under his breath, but archangel or not, Gabriel’s hearing was still plenty good.

“Give it your best shot,” Gabriel challenged, eyes narrowed, dark smirk fixed firmly on his face. From the corner of his eye, he saw the worried glances Castiel and Sam shot each other as Sam stepped back from where he’d been positioned at Gabriel’s side. But Dean’s hand was already raised, his fingers already pressing to Gabriel’s forehead as the pinprick glow of grace in his eyes flared –

– and Gabriel was swept away by images of a place he hadn’t seen in millennia.

The Eden of Dean’s dreams was exactly how Gabriel remembered it being at its creation. Pure, untouched by the wars and the pollution and the scavengers that had plagued the world for years too numerous to count. Green as far as the eye could see, so rich in color that it almost hurt to look at. Flowers that sprang up everywhere, every shape and size and shade, so many that hadn’t been seen anywhere else on earth in eons. And there, hidden beneath a thornless rosebush, a tigress lay sprawled out, basking in the warm sunlight. And there, to the left, a deep stopped to drink from a crystal clear stream that wound its way between two unfamiliar types of trees.

Gabriel’s heart clenched painfully tight as he took it all in. He hadn’t seen this place since well before leaving Heaven. _No_ angel had…none were permitted to enter the Garden now, neither angel nor human. But once, this had been Gabriel’s favorite place in all of creation. There was no mistaking it. Somehow or another, Dean was seeing Eden in his dreams.

Gabriel was about to pull away, to try and process what it all meant, when he heard the voice. It didn’t register so much as _sound_ as it did of _presence_ and _feeling_. Light and power and essence and _love_ …too familiar, too much like _home_ , like comfort, and Gabriel could have wept as it slid over him, wrapping him in warmth. “ **Come** ,” the voice said –

– _commanded, pleaded, wept, begged, **boomed**_ –

– “ **Find me, my son. I wait for you here.** ”

There was a flash of light, bright enough to burn, to consume…

…and then, abruptly, he was back in Bobby’s house, bent forward, his hands on his knees, gasping for air because he’d stopped breathing through the pressure squeezing tightly at his chest. Sam was beside him again, speaking words Gabriel couldn’t understand as he pulled the fallen archangel to him and wrapped him in his arms.

Castiel came to stand in front of him. “Gabriel. Brother, look at me.”

He did, slowly, dragging his eyes up as though through tar to meet Castiel’s. The fallen angel’s azure gaze was soft, concerned. “Are you all right?” he asked.

Gabriel didn’t actually know, but he managed something resembling a nod, pressing himself a bit more into Sam’s hold.

 _Home_. He’d been so close to it, so close to all that it had once been to him. His Father, there, almost within reach, _hearing_ Him…. Gabriel had missed it…he’d missed all of it _so much_ …

He blinked, trying to focus on the people around him, on _Sam_. Sam, who already felt like a new kind of home. Sam, who meant so damn much after so short a time. He blinked again, trying to clear the memories, the _wanting_. “It…” His voice was hoarse, making him stop and swallow reflexively. His gaze went from Castiel to Dean, who was standing back, his jaw clenched, eyes shuttered. Gabriel blinked. “Dean?”

“I’m sorry,” the hunter said, his own voice rough. “I didn’t mean to –”

“Wasn’t your fault,” Gabriel cut in harshly. “Don’t beat yourself up.” Right now, it was the closest he could come to an apology of his own, and he hoped Dean recognized it as such. To Castiel, he said, finally, “The Garden.”

Castiel’s eyes went wide, no explanation necessary for what Gabriel meant. “And the voice?”

Gabriel turned away, breathing through the agony of remembering. “A close approximation,” he allowed, grudgingly.

“Then it is –”

“ _No_.” Desperately. “It’s not enough. Any angel who’s ever heard Him speak, ever seen the Garden, could have planted that in his head. _Lucifer_ –”

“There’s more.” Dean’s voice was pained. All three of their gazes flew to him, and he fiddled with a cord around his neck for a long moment before finally dragging a familiar-looking pendant from beneath his shirt. Gabriel’s breath stuttered even as Sam drew in a surprised breath.

“I thought Cas still had that!” the younger Winchester exclaimed.

Dean glanced at Castiel, his grace-bright viridian eyes troubled. “He gave it back to me after the transfer of his grace,” he told Sam.

“It wasn’t much good to me by that point, powerless and unable to continue the search,” the fallen angel murmured. “But you hadn’t been wearing it.”

“No. Not until the dreams started.” Dean looked down now, not meeting any of their gazes. The fist around Gabriel’s heart tightened further as the hunter took a breath. “The first time I had that dream, I woke up, and the pendant was in my hand.” It was to Castiel he looked to now, his eyes holding something like desperation. “I was burning hot. It has been every night since.”

That…that wasn’t something that could be faked, or planted in someone’s mind. Gabriel knew that pendant, knew what it symbolized, what its purpose was, and it wasn’t something that could be mimicked, or recreated. It was…it could only be…

It seemed like the world was spinning, darkness pressing into his vision as Gabriel fought for every breath of air. The need to run, to _keep_ running and not stop until he’d outrun the memories, the pain, the terrible ache in his chest, was overpowering. He was aware, peripherally, of Castiel landing heavily on one of the chairs, of Dean moving almost lightning-fast to his side, but Gabriel couldn’t focus, couldn’t _think_ beyond ‘ _fly, fly, fly_ …’ The places his wings should have been between his shoulder blades ached. He needed to go, needed to get away, needed –

“ _Sam_.” The name tore from his throat painfully. He’d promised. He’d _promised_ , damn it, he’d sworn he wouldn’t run. He _couldn’t_ , couldn’t leave Sam, couldn’t leave any of them to face this, to deal with it on their own…

He wasn’t aware of being herded outside until he felt wind on his face, felt sunlight wrapping around him, and then he was being spun around, dragged into Sam’s embrace. Gabriel clung to him like a lifeline.

“You want to talk about it?” the hunter asked, pressing a kiss into Gabriel’s hair. It was that, that smallest of gestures, that made Gabriel’s throat close up, made the tears spring to his eyes. He choked as the first sob clawed its way out of him, pressed himself further into Sam’s arms and let Sam be the force that held him together as everything within him tried to shatter apart.

After, he wouldn’t know for sure how long it was Sam held him, how long his body shuddered with the force of his grief, or even how they ended up on the ground, Sam kneeling with Gabriel curled against him like a child. He came back to himself in stages, exhausted and wrung out and embarrassed, but Sam only continued whispering nonsense words of comfort to him, and eventually Gabriel couldn’t bring himself to care.

Sam was there, and Sam loved him, and _that_ was what he really cared about. That was all he could _allow_ himself to care about.

“He left,” he finally mumbled into the hunter’s shirt, when he began to feel like he could breathe properly again. “Bastard just _left_ , and no one knew where He was, or what we’d done wrong, or if He was ever coming back…if He was even still _alive_ …just…just _gone_ , out of the blue, for…for _countless_ years.” The more he talked, the more the words kept tumbling out of him, and the anger was coming back slowly, mingling with the horrendous ache until he didn’t know _what_ he was feeling anymore. “It was easier, thinking He was dead, not knowing for sure. At least we could all pretend He still cared. But then it turns out He’s still… He’s just another deadbeat dad, and I can’t… They wouldn’t stop fighting, after He left, they wouldn’t stop, and I couldn’t take it, and _He could have stopped it_ , and I wouldn’t have…”

“You wouldn’t have left.” Another kiss pressed into his hair, another nuzzle, another gesture of comfort, of _love_.

Gabriel swallowed harshly, burrowing still more into Sam’s warmth. “Why would He do it? Why would He just…abandon us like that? Why would He be letting _all_ of this happen when He could just…snap His fingers and make it stop?”

“I don’t know,” Sam said. He tipped Gabriel’s tear-streaked face up, kissed him softly. “I don’t know, but I do know a thing or two about crappy fathers, the ones who love their kids but still make all the wrong decisions about their lives. And the thing about some of them is, no matter how much it sucks, or how wrong they are, _they_ believe they have a good reason for what they do. I’m willing to bet your dad’s a lot like mine that way.”

It didn’t help, not entirely. But it did reassure Gabriel that he wasn’t alone now, that Sam really _did_ understand, that he wanted to be there for the fallen archangel. It wasn’t enough to quell the stabbing pain of feeling abandoned, but it did ease it, drive it back a little.

“I should check on Cas,” Gabriel sighed after a few quiet moments. “He can’t be dealing terrifically right now either.”

“I’m sure Dean’s taking care of him,” Sam said, a thread of laughter in his tone that, unbelievably, Gabriel could feel the stirrings of echoing in his heart.

“You think if we give it a few more minutes, one of them will finally man up and make a move?” He raised an eyebrow at Sam as the hunter snorted, rolling his eyes.

“That would be too easy. They have at _least_ another few days of longing glances left in them before one finally cracks.”

“Ugh. They’re so _insufferable_ ,” Gabriel pouted. It changed to a smile when Sam captured his mouth seconds later, tongue tracing against Gabriel’s lower lip, seeking entrance that was granted immediately.

 _Hells_ , but he’d missed this the last ten days. This connection, this _claim_ Sam had over his heart and his body and the soul he wasn’t supposed to have…the grace he wasn’t sure he’d ever get back, if such a thing were even possible. It all belonged to Sam now, every part of him, and he’d surrendered it with ease even before he’d known it would be accepted. He was Sam’s, never wanted that to change, and it was that more than anything that would get him through to tomorrow, and the next day, and the next…

“Stop thinking so loudly,” Sam murmured. He flicked his tongue, twining it with Gabriel’s, and Gabriel complied with the demand readily. He lost himself in the hunter, shifted so that he was straddling Sam, hands running up underneath Sam’s flannel shirt…

Sam pulled away just an inch, just enough to have Gabriel whimpering unhappily as he tried to follow. “Gabriel?”

The smaller man gave up and attached himself to Sam’s collarbone as he made a small sound of acknowledgement in his throat, and secretly reveled in the moan that escaped the hunter before Sam could stop it.

It didn’t stop him from finishing his thought though, even as his head tilted back to allow Gabriel more access. “You didn’t run. You wanted to, for a minute, but you didn’t.” His hands came up, rested on Gabriel’s arms as he opened his eyes and waited for Gabriel to look up at him. Gabriel did so reluctantly, meeting Sam’s eyes even as his heart pounded. Sam smiled. “I’m proud of you.”

Gabriel flushed, ducked his head though he knew he couldn’t hide it. “I…” What did he even _say_ to that? It was Sam who held him here, Sam who anchored him even when he felt like he was drowning. “Just…shut up, Sam.”

And he proceeded to _make_ Sam shut up the best way he knew how, with a persistent mouth and wandering hands and touches that lit the hunter up beneath him.

He took whatever time he could now, content to delay the inevitable for as long as possible, because he knew that things were undoubtedly about to turn into a monumental clusterfuck the second they went back inside.

-


	13. Chapter 13

Castiel didn’t think he’d ever fully understand the intricacies of human emotion. He certainly hadn’t understood them _before_ he’d been human, feeling them for the first time as an angel fearful of disobeying, fearful of _falling_ , and his time _as_ a human hadn’t gone very far toward providing any additional insight.

Still, he was reasonably sure that what he was feeling now was… something like _pride_.

Shock, yes, there was a fair bit of that, creating a numb sort of haze in his mind that was difficult to sift through at first.

And there was sadness, for what he could see the revelation doing to his brother, who Castiel knew had once been close to their Father, much closer than Castiel himself had ever been.

But…Castiel had been _right_. All along, all of his prayer, all of his _belief_ that God was still there, that he hadn’t fully abandoned his children… He’d been _right_. Even at his lowest point, even fallen and hurting and human, Castiel had always hoped…but here was proof, proof given directly to Dean, to Castiel’s charge, and it meant something, it _had_ to mean something.

He’d been right. And even beyond the pride, even beyond the satisfaction of knowing that, the thing he felt the most, the thing that shone brightest and felt purest, was _joy_.

This, then, was what real _hope_ was. Hope that wasn’t false, or desperate, or aching…

He took in a deep breath, released it slowly, lifting his eyes to meet a familiar too-bright bottle-green gaze.

 _Dean._

In all of this, in all of the unknowing, daunting, fearful months that he hadn’t had this reassurance, it had been Dean who had made him remember, made him believe, made sure he hadn’t lost that last, smallest thread of hope. Dean, who had no faith of his own in God or in most of God’s children, but who had faith in _him_. In _Castiel_.

“Cas? You all right?” Dean asked, concern in his grace-bright eyes.

He was more than all right. He felt as though he’d been given wings to fly again. His Father, not only alive, but calling out to them. To _Dean_ , and maybe _this_ could be the thing that proved to the hunter what he was truly worth. Maybe this was what would allow him to believe himself worthy of Castiel. What would allow him to finally – _finally_ – open his heart to the fallen angel.

Because God did not speak to the unworthy. God did not call out to those who were corrupt, or dark, or undeserving. Dean was still one of God’s children, and if He had spoken to Dean, it was because Dean was worthy of His love.

There was a hitch of breath from the hunter, a flash of something Castiel had no words for in his eyes, and then he was moving, dragging Castiel up from the chair, hands grasping the lapels of Castiel’s trench coat, pulling him closer, pulling him _to Dean_ –

– Dean’s mouth claimed his with all the passion and fury he’d been hiding for weeks – for _months_ – and Castiel couldn’t catch his breath long enough to make a sound, couldn’t do anything beyond hold tightly to the hunter he’d long since given his heart to and allow himself to be swept away in a storm of greedy hunger and desperate need and hopeless love.

Minutes or hours later, Dean pulled back, resting his forehead against Castiel’s as he pulled in ragged breaths. “Cas. Castiel,” he murmured. “God, you have no idea…your _thoughts_ , your _feelings_ …”

“Shh.” Castiel tilted his head up, kissed Dean’s forehead. “I know. I know, Dean. I won’t apologize.”

“Don’t want you to.” Dean’s eyes searched his, that pinprick spark of grace flashing in their depths just before Castiel leaned forward himself and kissed Dean this time.

“Well,” an amused voice said from the entryway. “Maybe we should’ve placed bets, Sammy-boy.”

Dean laughed into Castiel’s mouth, pulling away and scowling half-heartedly at their brothers. Gabriel was smirking, and Sam was outright _beaming_ at them, and Castiel felt his face flush in mixed embarrassment and joy as Dean’s hand found his, curled around it and held tightly.

“Everything all right?” Dean asked Gabriel, raising an eyebrow.

“We’re good,” the fallen archangel replied, his voice too casual. The look that passed between him and Sam was full of something Castiel didn’t entirely understand, but he knew enough to know that whatever had come to pass outside, Sam was the reason Gabriel was holding himself together. “And I’m thinking it’s high time we find my Father and give Him a piece of our minds.”

Dean blinked. “Seriously?”

“Damn right,” Gabriel said firmly. “Bastard has a lot of explaining to do.”

Well, Castiel certainly wasn’t going to be the one to deny it. Gabriel was right. Their Father did indeed have a lot to answer for, if He’d known all along and still had done nothing to stop all this. “We can’t all go,” he pointed out quietly.

“No,” Gabriel agreed. “I dunno how _any_ of us will get in. Eden’s been hidden away and closed to angels, demons, and humans alike for a long time now. But I know where it is. If Dad’s calling out to Dean, there’s a reason for it, and I can at least get him there.”

Dean blinked again. “Uh…”

“You are the best chance, Dean,” Castiel told him, voice still soft. “And for all the grace you have right now, you are not truly an angel, any more than you are truly human while in possession of it. Perhaps it will be enough of a distinction to let you pass through the gate.”

“Okay, great, but, me and God?” Dean cringed. “I’m just as likely to punch the bastard as anything. Not sure I’m really the best candidate.”

“Best we got, kiddo,” Gabriel said, his smirk reappearing. “Besides, he deserves it. I ain’t gonna be the one to stop you socking it to him, if it comes to it.”

Castiel shook his head hopelessly at his brother, squeezing Dean’s hand. “It will be fine, Dean. _Have faith_.”

Dean’s wide eyes met his, grace-bright and shining, and after a long moment, he finally nodded. “Okay.”

From his position next to Gabriel, Sam cleared his throat. “Does…anyone have any objection to putting this adventure off, just till tomorrow?” he asked, his eyes sliding to Gabriel. “I just…I mean, I _know_ , I know how important this is and everything, but…you guys were gone for over a week, and…”

Gabriel’s smile was sly as he curled an arm around Sam’s waist and tilted his head up for a kiss. “Aww Sammy, I knew you missed me.”

Sam’s cheeks pinked, but he didn’t deny it. And Castiel could admit that right now, he was in no great rush to see Dean leave either. Not when there was a deep curl of want in his belly, warmth flaring hard and bright in his chest, Dean’s hand held loosely in his own after all this time…

“I got no objections,” Dean said. If anyone else heard the ragged quality of the words, they wisely said nothing, and when Dean’s eyes came immediately back to his, Castiel was lost. So much so that he was never aware of Dean’s wings coming out, or of the ground shifting underneath him, or of the flight between the study and the bedroom.

He was only, always, aware of _Dean_.

~*~

There was no need to speak. Dean knew everything Castiel was thinking, feeling, _wanting_ , and all Castiel had to do was look into Dean’s eyes to be able to know the same. They exchanged words with soft kisses, feather-light touches, gentle caresses. Every hitched breath was ‘ _please_ ’, every moan meant ‘ _more_ ’, every look said ‘ _I love you_ ’.

They didn’t take their time, because they’d already taken _so much_ of it. Clothes were removed with careless abandon, hands moving greedily to divest jackets and shirts and pants. Dean spun them around, backing them toward the bed, still kissing Castiel breathless at every possible moment as he laid him out, pressed him back into the sheets. Eyes smoldered with grace and with heat and with _love_ , and Castiel shuddered under the intensity of it.

Dean prepared him as quickly as his anxious fingers and trembling heartbeat allowed, eyes never leaving Castiel's, even when Castiel pushed into his fingers, even when Dean's breath caught and stuttered, even when Castiel told him with the softest of touches against his lips, ‘ _I'm ready_ ’.

When Dean finally slid into him, there was no stopping the way Castiel shouted out, the way he begged shamelessly for _more_ and _faster_ and _harder_ and _Dean, **please**_ … He grasped at Dean’s arms, keeping himself grounded when he already felt like he was flying, leaving fingerprint bruises that would be gone in mere moments.

And still, Dean's eyes held his own, never wavering. Castiel saw himself reflected in their depths, saw Dean’s love outshine even the grace that burned so brightly within him, and it was that that finally broke him, that _knowing_ that shattered Castiel just as Dean slammed home a final time, gasping the fallen angel’s name.

They came as one, together in this as they had been from the very beginning in all things.

They whispered ‘ _I love you_ ’, because those words could never be said too often, could never hold more meaning than they did right now, spoken aloud for the very first time.

And when Castiel finally succumbed to sleep, Dean followed him into his dreams.

-


	14. Chapter 14

Gabriel woke in a soft bed with long arms wrapped around him and warmth spread all along his side.

He woke to _Sam_ , and if that wasn't the best way to start a day, then Gabriel didn't know what was. He wanted to bask in this gift that life had suddenly given him for as long as he could, but he and Dean needed to leave today. Gabriel knew he didn't have time to indulge his selfish whims right now.

He rolled over to wake his sleeping lover and was startled to find Sam already sleepily gazing at him as he held him. "What are you doing?" Gabriel grumbled when Sam smiled.

"Waiting for you," Sam said, running a hand through Gabriel’s hair.

"Waiting for me to do what?" Gabriel questioned, eyeing him.

"This." Sam chuckled and cupped Gabriel’s face with one large palm while leaning forward to kiss him, morning breath and all.

There was a moment, just a moment, when Gabriel thought about complaining, but then Sam’s mouth was on his chin, then his cheek, his ear…oh _hell,_ his ear…before sliding a trail of nibbling kisses down his neck, and just as suddenly, all thoughts of anything but _yes, please, more_ were gone from Gabriel’s head.

They didn't have much time, Gabriel was already distantly aware of footsteps passing their room as someone headed down the stairs. He was going to have to leave Sam, again, soon. Sam must have realized it too because he was moving again, dropping down to Gabriel’s chest to suck and tug on his nipples while Gabriel grew harder than he thought he’d ever been in his life. He moaned, tugging at Sam’s hair, didn't know if it was for him to stop or to hurry up, but it didn't matter.

Sam surged up, kissing him again as he reached over the side of the bed and flailed for the lube they'd dropped there the night before. Gabriel arched into the hot press of Sam’s erection against his stomach, spread his legs in blatant invitation. If he had to leave he wanted to do it with something of Sam marking him. His mate, his home, his _everything_. He was pleading for more as soon as Sam slid one slick finger into him. Rocking back into the touch of that hand, thinking of how good it would be to have Sam inside him for real.

By three fingers Gabriel was tugging on Sam’s hair and mewling for him to stop torturing them both. Sam pulled them free and gathered Gabriel close, then suddenly rolled so that Sam was on his back with Gabriel sprawled across his chest. "Ride me," Sam demanded, eyes dark.

He didn't have to ask twice. Gabriel scrambled up, got into position and groaned with something like relief as Sam helped to steady him on the long slide onto Sam’s cock. He was so full, it was perfect. There was some hesitancy as he started to move – they were both still new to this, both still learning what the other enjoyed. But once he found a rhythm, Gabriel lost himself in the deep penetration of his lover and the teasing grip Sam had along his erection. It built, faster and faster, and Gabriel knew he was being too loud but he was so close, _so close_ , and he just needed something…

Sam’s free hand slid up Gabriel's chest to his mouth, two fingers brushing his lower lip in silent request. Gabriel took his wrist and sucked them inside gratefully, biting down unintentionally as the weight of Sam’s fingers on his tongue and the taste of his lover in his mouth pushed him sharply over the edge.

At Gabriel's moan, Sam rolled them over again, thrust sharply, fucking him straight through his orgasm, and moments later he was coming inside Gabriel with an inarticulate whine.

Gabriel came back to himself slowly, still gripping Sam’s hand and licking his fingertips. He met Sam’s eyes with a little bit of playful guilt, and Sam chuckled. "You are _so_ orally fixated."

For as many moments as they could, they snuggled close and pretended that Gabriel didn't have to leave the warm cocoon of Sam's arms.

~*~

Eden looked much as Gabriel remembered it from the outside. A forest so dense it was like a fortress, wards covering it so tightly that any being who looked upon it would never even know it was there. But he and Dean weren't like everyone else, not anymore. They were different, and that difference seemed to be enough to allow them to see.

If it would be enough to grant them entrance was a whole different matter.

"So we just walk in?" Dean questioned, looking around with the impassive face he plastered on when he was totally out of his depth.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Gabriel answered softly. But he stepped forward anyway. Eden didn't exactly have a doorway, and standing here wasn't going to get them anywhere.

They were only a few feet into the tree line when Gabriel started feeling strange. He'd been getting more and more used to all the crap humans dealt with on a regular basis, but this wasn't like anything he'd felt yet. It was like something was squeezing him all over, a pressure clenched around his whole body.

"Do you feel that?" he asks, shuddering.

Dean glanced at him. His wings were revealed, but folded tightly against his back to keep them from snagging on anything. "No, why?"

"Nothing," Gabriel replied, feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

Less than an hour of walking, and Gabriel changed his mind. "Dean," he gasped, stumbling over yet another root sticking out of the ground. "Something’s wrong."

Gabriel could tell when Dean’s protective instincts, already at high alert, went into overdrive. His wings flared out and formed a protective curtain over bother of them as Dean immediately pressed himself up into Gabriel’s personal space. "What do you mean?"

"My chest feels tight," Gabriel murmured, pressing a hand over his heart. "I’m having a hard time breathing. My vision’s blurry, my head hurts. I don’t know, I just feel…wrong. I shouldn't be here."

"Look, I think we’re almost through," Dean said, looking worried. "I can see some light up ahead. If it doesn’t get better after we’re through these trees then I’m taking you back out of here." Dean sighed, wiped a hand down his face. "I can’t let anything happen to you, Gabriel. You’re…important."

Gabriel heard the unspoken _family_ as clearly as if Dean had said it allowed. It hung heavy between them through the last few steps out into the light of Eden. Dean led the way with Gabriel stumbling after. He distracted himself by thinking of just how long it had been since he was a part of anything _like_ a family.

He was still uncomfortable to the point of pain, but he couldn't stop now. This rag-tag little group of weirdos meant everything to him. He’d be damned before he let them down now, when they were this close.

And then the last of the trees were finally behind them, and Gabriel slumped into the grass as the pressure surrounding his body faded as though it was never there.

"It’s over," he breathed.

"I know," Dean replied, giving him a small, relieved smile. Damn him, he probably knew before Gabriel did. Dean with angel powers was still creepy.

As he gave himself a moment to recover, he risked looking around, finding to his amazement that Eden was much the same as it had always been, still untouched by the progress of man. It was beautiful; Gabriel just wished he could enjoy it the way he once had.

"You look like shit," Dean commented as he helped Gabriel to his feet and they began working their way through the lush greenery.

"Thanks," Gabriel replied snidely, then added, "How'd you feel back when your dad came back after a long time away, and you knew you had messed up while he was gone?"

"Scared shitless," Dean admitted after a moment.

"Yeah." Gabriel nodded. "Me too."

Somehow, admitting the anxiety made it a little easier to bear.

They searched for what felt like hours before Gabriel stopped and threw his arms in the air. "Alright, this isn’t funny. I give up."

"And here I thought you were a real joker," a voice said from behind them, and Gabriel knew…he _knew_ , even though he’d never heard that voice before.

"Dad," he whispered, turning around slowly, eyes wide.

" _Dad!_ " Dean exclaimed in the same moment, as soon as he set his eyes on the man behind them.

John Winchester, plain as day, standing in the Garden of Eden. Gabriel had seen him before, in Sam’s mind, in pictures. But still…

"Not exactly," the man answered with an easy smile. "We thought this form might make it easier for you, Dean."

"Who exactly is ‘we,’" Gabriel asked suspiciously.

"Myself and John," his Father answered. "This is where his soul came after it was released from Hell. We spoke, and he thought a familiar face might ease the shock for you."

"He thought God wearing his face would make his son feel better?" Dean growled. The feathers on his wings that had puffed up from the shock started to resettle, and he paused before releasing a tired sigh. "Damn, that does sound like my dad. Just so we're all clear, he was dead wrong."

Gabriel watched in wonder as his Father threw back his head and… _laughed_.

"Come on boys," He said after a long moment, still smiling widely. "Walk with me. We have a lot to talk about."

Gabriel followed behind them as they pushed slowly through the lush landscape of the garden. He thought he might be in shock, but shock was okay. Shock was comfortable, and he wasn't above clinging to it for just a little bit longer. Dean was giving Him information that Gabriel was fairly certain He already knew, but it was detailed and specific, like a mission report. The way Dean was acting made Gabriel certain that choosing John Winchester’s form to communicate with them was a good choice. Dean was instinctual; he follows his gut in almost everything, and in the face of what looks like the man who raised him, Dean was acting the way his father would expect him to. He was being a good soldier.

"We need help," Gabriel finally forced himself to say when they stopped moving. Dean looked up from where he'd been staring in the general vicinity of his father's scruffy boots.

"I know." His Father was solemn. "It’s why I called you here. You can’t stop this on your own, and it’s time for me to step in."

"Why wait so long?" Dean asked angrily, clenching his fists. Gabriel has to admire his bravery. "We’ve lost a lot of good people trying to stop this, why not step in sooner?"

"You needed to learn."

"I didn’t need to learn shit like this," Dean snapped. "Look at us! Look what’s happened to both of us because of this war."

"You’ve evolved," John – or God – smiled like He was particularly pleased. "It’s what was required. I created humanity as a way to try to correct for the mistakes I made when creating the angels. But I acted too quickly, and humanity has always been so flawed, so unwilling to see beyond themselves. With the angels, I made the opposite mistake. I made them too perfect. So perfect in their will to serve me that they couldn’t change. But now, look at you boys. A human becomes an angel through the power of love. Castiel did what he was created to do, he learned to love something more than he loved me. That is a gift, Dean. You should cherish it."

"I do," Dean answers, grit lining his words.

"And you." Gabriel winces as his Father turns his full attention to him for the first time. "Gabriel, my greatest warrior. You chose to live among them rather than remain in Heaven. You grew, changed, and made mistakes. But when it counted, you came through. Just like I always knew you would. An angel who chose humanity, yet still – always, even now – carried a spark of grace. It’s how you were able to pass through the wards. I’m sorry you’ve suffered so, Gabriel. But I’m proud of you, Son."

Gabriel had thought he was out of tears, but he was so wrong. A weight he was sure he would carry for eternity lifted off his chest, and in spite of himself, he whispered, "I did terrible things."

"I know, and you will need to work very hard to even those scales. But that doesn’t change how much I love you."

Gabriel… _shattered_ , shaking as his world fell apart and was rebuilt in a single breath, and Dean reached out a wing to wrap around his shoulders. He closed his eyes tightly to reign in the sobs, turned toward Dean as though his friend could shield him. He gathered himself as much as he could before he opened his eyes again, and then he gasped.

They were suddenly standing in Bobby Singer’s kitchen.

"What the hell?" Dean muttered.

"Dean!" Castiel exclaimed from the doorway. "You’re back!"

Sam came stumbling in from the living room, looking like he’d been run down by a truck. "Thank God, are you okay?" he demanded, rushing forward to gather Gabriel into his arms.

Gabriel returned the embrace with interest, clinging tightly and watching as Castiel reached out for Dean the same way.

"You’re acting like we were gone forever." Gabriel chuckled into Sam's shoulder, happy to finally be feeling like he could breathe properly again. Sam drew away with a suspicious sounding sniff, staring at Gabriel.

"You’ve been gone for over a week," Castiel whispered. "We were very concerned."

Gabriel caught Dean’s eyes, knew that the other man's expression of shock was probably mirrored on his face. "It only felt like a day."

"You're back now," Sam sighed, drawing Gabriel back into his arms. "That's what matters."


	15. Chapter 15

“I don’t recall offerin' to host the hoedown,” Bobby commented as they stood at the window in his living room, watching the demons beginning lining up at the edges of the perimeter surrounding the salvage yard.

Castiel offered him something like an apologetic grimace, thinking that yes, it was truly unfair to dump all of this in Bobby's lap. Unfortunately, there wasn't any choice. Bobby's house was the only place safe enough for what was coming.

As it was, the wards were holding right now, but they wouldn't for long.

“So this is it,” Sam sighed as he surveyed the numbers. It wasn't a question. Castiel watched as Gabriel’s shaking hand reached up to curve around his lover's shoulder.

Castiel swallowed his sense of foreboding; he didn't have the time for it. “I need to go get ready,” he said quietly. Sam didn't react, but Gabriel gave him a slow nod. Their eyes met and Castiel saw the resolve in his brother’s eyes that he knew was mirrored in his own.

They were no longer angels, but this did not mean they were worthless. Castiel was a warrior, and outside, a war was on their doorstep.

He left to gather his weapons.

It only took Dean a few moments to find him; Castiel certainly wasn't hiding from him. He was in their bedroom, the room they'd shared for just two nights as lovers before what seems like the whole of the universe has come to tear them apart. The bed was stacked with weapons, each of which Castiel was checking as thoroughly as he could. Any flaw could be the difference between life and death for someone he loved. He was determined to be ready to protect what it has taken him a millennium to find. This was his home, his _family_ …he wasn't prepared to lose them now.

“Why aren’t you packing?” Dean asked, eyes darting around frantically. “It’s about to be ground zero outside, Cas. I have to get you and the others out of here.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Castiel answered. His voice was firm, his gaze challenging. If Dean thought he was leaving him to die here alone, he was very mistaken.

Dean’s wings appeared, fluttering with his agitation, and he gave Castiel a look that told the angel quite clearly that he thought he was being an idiot.

“You can’t stay here.” Dean’s eyes and voice both carried the weight of his desperation. “You can’t even shoot that thing,” he said, gesturing to the shotgun in Castiel's hands.

Castiel glanced down at it, fingers stroking the cold lines of metal and wood. “Bobby instructed me on how to care for and use this weapon while you were with Gabriel in Eden. I am ready to defend our home.”

Their eyes met over the distance of the room separating them. Dean’s were widened with shock, as though he'd never considered that Castiel would chose to fight at his side. Castiel watched, heart twisting painfully, as grief creased his lover’s face. The odds of them winning this were poor, he knew, and this could very well be one of their last moments.

“Please,” Dean begged, hands held out in front of him as though he was approaching a skittish animal. His eyes glowed with the steady pulse of Castiel's grace. “I need you to get away from here.”

“I’m not useless,” Castiel snapped, his patience worn thin. There was no _time_ for this. “I’ve been fighting since before your kind was a thought in my Father's mind. I’m not going to run away and leave you to face this alone. I _won't_. If Lucifer is not stopped then the whole world will fall. If this is the end, Dean…I want to spend it with you.”

Tears were the product of useless human biological functions, and Castiel hated them very much in that moment as he tried to blink them away and still look resolute in his convictions. Dean blinked once, twice…and then he crossed the room in three swift strides, cupped Castiel's cheek gently, and tugged the fallen angel close against his chest, where he simply held him for long moments.

“I don’t suppose Gabriel or Sam are planning to leave either then, huh?” Dean snorted as he finally pulled away a bit, wiping at Castiel’s unwanted tears before kissing him soundly, clutching him close for as long as he could.

Gabriel's voice piped up from the doorway. “You crazy?” he scoffed, and Castiel turned to see his eyes glinting. “Fun’s just getting started.”

*****

There was no time for pleasantries when Gabriel’s Father appeared in Bobby’s living room, and in a lot ways, Gabriel was grateful for that, because what the hell was there to say? As it was, time was up; the battle was about to begin.

“I will deal with Lucifer,” God said without preamble, still wearing the guise of John Winchester. “You will need to contain the demon threat. Once the battle begins they will decimate anything in their path if they are not stopped.”

“Have you looked around?” Bobby shot, not looking one whit like he cared that he was basically yelling at _God_. Gabriel's respect for the man increased exponentially. “Not tryin to be rude here, but how in hades are we supposed to hold back an army full of demons? There’s only five of us.” The _you idgit_ could be heard ringing in the silence at the end of the sentence.

“Only five?” God answered, smiling as though He were amused. “You should look again.”

He gestured to the door and, heart in his throat, Gabriel stumbled to open it. He had a sick feeling rolling around in his gut already and he honestly wasn't sure how many more surprises he was up for. Gabriel wasn't like Castiel. He’d never been the type to set out into certain death without a backward glance. In a slightly-more-perfect world, Gabriel would have been far away from this place right now.

But everything he loved was right here. So he was done running; if this was how it was supposed to go, then Gabriel was going to stay right here and go down fighting with his family by his side.

He threw the door back, prepared for the worst, not at all ready for what was waiting for him.

Standing on the porch and in front of the house was a group of hunters, and flanking them…

Flanking them was an army of gods.

“What are you doing here?” He barked at the most familiar of faces, trying to process what his eyes were telling him.

Loki, always his brother in all the ways that mattered, smiled and shrugged as though he was here for high tea and not a _deadly battle_. He waved playfully at Dean when the hunter stuck his head out the doorway over Gabriel’s shoulder. “We thought you could use some help,” he finally said to Gabriel, shrugging again. “And so we invited a few friends to the party.”

Loki, Danu, Kali, Hera, Uzume, Koschei, and so many others, gods Gabriel hadn't seen in hundreds and hundreds of years, were all there, ready and waiting to fight at Gabriel's side. Gabriel greeted them all numbly, feeling too shocked and bewildered to manage more than a few stuttered words to them. It wasn't until he reached Danu that he managed to gather himself enough to whisper, “I don’t understand. I’m not a God; I’m not even an _angel_ anymore. Why would you risk this? I’ve got nothing to offer you.”

Danu eyes glittered as she gazed at him. “It was not grace or godhood that made you who you are, Gabriel. These are small things, only tools. Archangel or trickster god, you are _Gabriel_ , and you do not need these tools to _show_ it. That is why they came. They came for you, they came for their _friend_. You are their hope.” Danu's voice rang with power, but she was gentle when she brushed her hands across his forehead and stepped away with another soft smile.

Gabriel swallowed hard, nodded once, and turned back to his family.

They gathered their weapons, told each other with too-fast glances what there wasn't actually time to say, and then there was no more time. The demons were there.

“Let’s make a path, shall we?” Gabriel's Father said calmly, looking out at the seething mass of demonic soldiers waiting just beyond Bobby's land.

Gabriel took a breath, and the wards shattered, demons flowing from all sides toward them in a mad mass of destruction. He tightened his grip on his sword and stepped out to Loki’s side. He searched for Sam one more time with his eyes in the seconds before the battle began and found Danu at his lover’s back. Good. Sam would be protected, one way or another.

Now he just has to make sure they all stayed alive.

****

Castiel saw Dean surge forward with his sword drawn the second the demons breeched past the exterior and into hand to hand range, and he launched himself after him so that together, they were able to carve out an opening in the melee for his Father to pass through toward Lucifer. God followed in their wake, but did not fight, conserving his strength for the battle that truly mattered. Castiel did not begrudge him, even when the demons managed to get their own hits in, leaving bloody gashes and horrific bruises along his skin that he had to ignore.

Even in the midst of battle, it was hard for Castiel not to watch Dean's every move.

Dean had always been a capable fighter as a human, but infused with angelic grace he was truly awe-inspiring to behold. The demons were confused by him, each of them too hesitant to approach until it was too late and Castiel had already carved into them from behind. Together, it seemed they made a truly unstoppable team, and they pushed their way forward until Castiel's whole body hurt, arms burning, back aching, muscles straining past their breaking points.

But then, suddenly, they were there.

Lucifer was doing nothing but waiting, watching dispassionately as they finally broke through the throng and came to stand before him, breathing raggedly as they pointed their weapons.

“Hello, Father,” Lucifer said, his eyes passing over Dean and Castiel and settling on God, standing stoically beside them.

Castiel had expected a fierce battle to unleash instantly before his eyes. He had been prepared to watch in horror as his family carved itself to bits even more so than it had already done. Had readied himself for the fallout that would come later.

Instead, the end came quietly.

“You can’t win this,” his Father told Lucifer, and now he sounded sad. “I’ll fight you if that’s what you want, but you must know you can't win. We can stop now, my son.”

“What are your terms,” Lucifer asked, approaching cautiously.

“A choice,” God answered. He stood tall, and His voice made Castiel's ears ring. “I will send you back to damnation, and all that it entails, and seal it so tightly that you will never again find escape. Or I will grant you the peace of oblivion. I will allow you to cease to be.”

“So a return to Hell or death?” Lucifer spat, his eyes blazing. “These are my _choices?_ ”

“They are all I have to offer you, Son.” His Father's voice was toneless.

Castiel’s heart beat frantically in his chest, a rapid-fire pounding of fear as Lucifer moved even closer. Dean’s wings spread out behind them as though he was prepared to launch himself between Lucifer and those he'd sworn to protect. But then Lucifer nodded once and dropped his sword, collapsing to his knees in the dirt at their Father’s feet as he pleaded, “Then let me die, Father. Grant me peace. I can no longer live this way.”

His ears rang in the sudden silence, even though Castiel was distantly aware that the battle was still raging all around. But in that moment there was nothing he could hear but the sounds of Lucifer’s labored breathing and his own heartbeat. Their father reached out, smoothing a hand over Lucifer’s hair and down the side of his scarred cheek. He said, softly, “I love you, my son.”

Then Lucifer’s head tipped back and the light of his grace ripped free from his body in a sudden, blinding flash. Castiel cried out, more in shock than in real pain, but he threw his arm up to shield his eyes, and Dean's wing came around him in a protective circle.

By the time he finally dared to look again, the husk of Lucifer's vessel had fallen back to the ground, surrounded by the burned remains of what had once been his great and powerful wings.

It was over.

Around them, the battle began to cease, and with a deep breath, Castiel turned to Dean, the fragile beginnings of hope lighting his heart.

*****

Gabriel saw the flash as he battled the hordes of demons at Loki’s side, knew that it meant his brother was dead. But it wasn't until the demons stopped fighting them and turned on each other, a sudden fierce battle amongst themselves to see who would be the next leader of Hell, that he had a chance to really understand. To allow himself to grieve.

Another life wasted, another bond cut when he'd already lost so many. A reminder of everything he'd run from and hoped to never see again.

He finally collapsed into Loki’s arms as the demons vanished one by one, taking their fight to places where humans and angels would not interfere. His sword fell to the ground between them, and he let the tears come. When Sam found them, minutes or hours later, Loki passed Gabriel into his arms, and Gabriel clutched at him, grateful beyond reason that his family was safe. Lucifer was gone, but the family he'd made, the family that mattered, was safe.

He drifted numbly through the next few hours. Giving his thanks and saying his goodbyes to those who had come to help until he could slump against Sam on the couch in Bobby’s living room while across from them, Castiel carefully groomed Dean’s wings.

For a long time, they were all silent, no one knowing what to say, how to act, what to do now.

“Do you want to go get cleaned up?” Sam finally asked, hours later.

“No,” Gabriel sighed, and forced himself to say what he already knew but hadn't wanted to think about. “It’s not over yet.”

Sam stilled, his breath all but frozen in his lungs, and Gabriel's eyes closed on a tired sigh. “What are you talking about?” Sam asked.

“Unfinished business," a familiar voice said. Gabriel didn't need to turn to know his Father was standing behind them. He'd left after the battle, Gabriel thought to deal with His own grief in private. But he was back now, and there was purpose in his voice. “There’s still the matter of Dean’s soul, and what to do with my two wayward angels.”

“You’re not taking them,” Dean growled, arms and wings curving protectively around Castiel as he glared. Gabriel mentally applauded him, but he knew it was a hopeless gesture.

Except that God _laughed_. “I’ve no intension of doing any such thing. I’ve got enough of a mess to clean up without needing to worry about the only two children I have that can think for themselves. I came to tell you the facts and make you an offer. The truth is, I’m perfectly capable and willing to restore both Gabriel and Castiel’s grace. But there is a problem.”

“Me,” Dean sighed.

“I’m afraid so. The injuries your soul suffered are such that, without the continued sustenance of at least a significant amount of grace, you will not be able to survive. I’m able to create life, wield cosmic power, but souls are different. They build upon themselves. Once a soul has this much damage…it’s beyond even my abilities.”

Gabriel's eyes slid closed. After all this…

“So Castiel gets his grace back and I die. Or I keep it and he’s trapped as a human for the rest of his life.”

“I am sorry, Dean," God said, His tone clearly regretful. "You have a day to make your decision. You should know, whatever you choose will be final. Whatever you ask me to do, it will not be undone.” And then He was gone.

In the aftermath of that bombshell, all they could do was stare at one another in hopeless silence.


End file.
